Fliss knew it – and regretted it – but only she knew that behind that look was a requirement to protect herself; few people guessed how shy and uncertain she could be. Her cool look was a wonderful defence and it was just such a look that Henrietta was using now.
‘It’s lovely to see you,’ she said warmly. ‘Isn’t this weather vile? I hate these sea mists. Susanna and Gus will be over later for tea. Come and have a drink.’
Jo was nowhere to be seen but Hal was busy at the drinks tray, Prue beside him, whilst Maria sat on one of the long sofas looking pensive. Fliss made the introductions and Maria and Cordelia shook hands whilst Henrietta remained behind the other sofa and said ‘Hello,’ to Maria and ‘Is Lizzie around?’ to Hal.
Lizzie and Jo came in together just then, and Fliss saw that Jo smiled and said ‘Hi’ to Henrietta and waved a greeting to Cordelia, who mouthed ‘Happy birthday’, and then went across to his father and grandmother. By now Cordelia and Maria were deep in conversation and silently Fliss blessed Prue, whose idea it had been to show Maria the article Cordelia had written about The Keep. A copy of that particular Country Life was kept in the guest room and Prue had drawn Maria’s attention to it and to two of Cordelia’s books.
Maria had been suitably impressed and rather excited by the prospect of meeting an author. Watching her, Fliss suspected that it had certainly distracted her from any speculation on the relationship between Jo and Henrietta.
‘She’s bringing her daughter with her,’ Fliss had told Maria when they’d talked about Cordelia. ‘Henrietta’s staying with her for a few days. She and Lizzie are great friends, though Henrietta lives in London and we don’t see her too often. We’ve known them for ever, of course, but I’m not sure you ever met Cordelia, did you? Anyway, I know you’ll like them both.’
It was clear that Maria was much more inclined to approve of a well-known journalist and her daughter coming to lunch on Jo’s birthday than any old naval chum, and now Fliss glanced at Prue to see if she’d noticed how well her plan was working. Prue smiled sweetly at her, raised her glass, and Fliss couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up.
Lizzie and Henrietta were chatting away together – as if they were indeed old friends – and Jo lounged beside them, joining in occasionally but talking to his father about the rugby; all was well. Fliss took her glass of wine from Hal and he smiled at her, such an odd smile that she was overwhelmed with affection for him. She stepped forward and raised her glass.
‘Shall we drink to Jo and get it over with,’ she said, ‘and then he can relax until tea-time when he gets his presents.’
He grinned at her, and they all turned, raising their glasses and saying, ‘Happy birthday,’ and the awkward moment was passed.
The mist was thick and chill when Henrietta and Cordelia drove home after tea. Cordelia could feel Henrietta beside her, rigid with pent-up emotion, and she sought for the right words to help her to relax.
‘We got through it very well,’ she said at last. ‘Don’t you think so? I really like Susanna and Gus, and Jolyon was great.’
Henrietta took a great breath and visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping, hands unlocking.
‘He was very convincing,’ she admitted. It was odd that, though she’d made him promise that he’d give nothing away, she was rather surprised at how very well he’d hidden his feelings for her. At no time would anyone have suspected that they were anything but old friends, just as she’d instructed; odd then – and very silly – that she should feel almost hurt. It had been horrid to leave him without some reassuring word or smile.
‘And what did you think of Maria?’ Cordelia was asking.
Henrietta thought about it. ‘She wasn’t too bad,’ she said at last. ‘Quite sweet, really. She puts on a bit of an act, though, doesn’t she?’
‘Just a bit.’ Cordelia slowed down, peering ahead. ‘I hate driving in these mists. It’s weird how it makes everything look quite different.’
‘You did well, too,’ Henrietta said. ‘You rather deflected her attention away from us.’
‘She was very impressed with my article about The Keep,’ Cordelia admitted, pleased by her daughter’s approval. ‘And my books. They helped to distract her a bit. She’s thinking how I might do an article on her.’
‘You’re joking! Or does she live in some amazing place?’
‘I don’t think so. She’s just one of those people who love to be noticed. I led her on a bit, talking about the different effects of bereavement, so as to keep her attention.’
Henrietta chuckled and then made a face. ‘Jo was doing so well I’m not sure you needed to bother,’ she said rather bitterly.
Cordelia hid a smile. ‘I thought that’s what you wanted.’
‘I did,’ Henrietta admitted. ‘But I’m rather shocked that he was so good at it. Silly, isn’t it?’
They both laughed and travelled on together in a companionable silence.
Henrietta was thinking: I’ll send him a text when we get in. He could have come out to say goodbye instead of just waving from the steps, but Mum’s right. It was the way I wanted it.
Cordelia was thinking: I’m glad Henrietta’s with me tonight. These sea mists can be a bit creepy. I hope there’s nothing there when we get in. Thank God for McGregor. He’ll frighten off anybody if they try to get into the house.
She slowed right down and turned off the high road, and the car plunged down into the narrow lanes that led to the coast.
‘Thank goodness, it’s over,’ Fliss said later to Hal as they were getting ready for bed. ‘Jo did brilliantly, didn’t he?’
Hal pulled off his jersey and began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I must admit that if I didn’t know better, I’d say that he and Henrietta had known each other from childhood, and he had no more interest in her than he has in Lizzie. They were amazing. Quite frightening, really. I’d no idea Jo was such a good actor. It’s very difficult pretending you’re not in love with someone for five or six hours on end.’
There was a little silence.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Fliss rather bitterly as she took out her earrings. ‘We managed it pretty well for twenty-five years.’
Hal stood for a moment, his face shocked, and then he went to her and put his arms round her where she sat at her dressing table, pulling her to her feet.
‘Oh, Fliss,’ he said remorsefully. ‘We didn’t always manage it, though, did we?’
She shook her head against his chest. ‘Not always.’
They stood locked together, recalling the past.
‘Do you remember,’ he murmured against her hair, ‘that night I brought Rex down here?’
‘Oh, Hal,’ she said sadly. ‘I remember everything. How could I forget? I didn’t think you did, though.’
‘Just lately,’ he said, still holding her tightly, ‘certain moments come back to me. I’ll never forget that one.’
‘I was here with the twins, and Grandmother was dying,’ Fliss said.
‘It began to snow,’ he said. ‘I remember the snow.’
Still holding Fliss in his arms, his cheek against her hair, Hal was filled with sadness.
‘I shouldn’t have agreed to Maria coming,’ he muttered. ‘I didn’t think it through properly. I was a tad high-handed, wasn’t I?’
She freed herself and looked up at him gravely. ‘It’s like opening Pandora’s box. None of us knows what might come out. It’s a big risk.’
‘Is it?’ He stared down at her. ‘Do you really believe that, Fliss?’
She turned away and sat down again at the dressing table. ‘It could be. Certainly for Jolyon, who’s in an emotional state at the moment…’
‘And for us?’
‘Like you said, it brings back memories. I’m not sure that’s always a good idea.’
‘There was something left at the bottom of Pandora’s box,’ Hal said, pulling off his shirt. ‘What was it?’
Fliss watched him through the mirror for a moment. ‘It was hop
e,’ she answered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It was Fliss who took Maria to the train on Monday morning.
‘I don’t want to go,’ Maria said, twisting to look back through the arch of the gatehouse to where Prue stood on the steps, waving. ‘Silly, isn’t it? Well, I am a fool. You know that.’
She turned back again and settled herself while Fliss, confused, wondered how to answer her.
‘It’s wretched for you,’ she began cautiously, ‘having to cope with being alone. But, to be truthful, I’ve never seen community living as your scene somehow.’
‘Absolutely not,’ agreed Maria readily. ‘That’s what’s so crazy, really. When I was young, the set-up here horrified me, I admit it. Now, it seems very attractive.’
Fliss was surprised by such honesty – and slightly anxious. ‘I expect it seems safe. It’s frightening being alone, isn’t it?’
‘It is for me. I’ve been thinking about it a lot just lately and I can see that I’ve always had someone controlling my life. First my parents, then Hal, and then Adam. I was used to having someone telling me what to do and how to do it. As an only child I was cosseted and organized, and even now I look for someone to be in charge. It’s pathetic but I can’t seem to help myself. It was different for you, being orphaned so young.’ She looked at Fliss compassionately. ‘How on earth did you manage?’
‘With difficulty.’ Fliss drove through the winding lanes towards Staverton, remembering how frightened she’d been. ‘I wasn’t allowed to show it because of Mole and Susanna. I remember a ghastly woman telling me that I must be a little mother to them and I can remember how resentful and angry I felt deep down because I didn’t want to be a little mother. I felt that I’d been deprived of my right to mourn simply because I was older than they were. It was such a relief to come back to The Keep and to Grandmother, and to pass some of the burden over.’
‘You always made me feel so immature,’ said Maria reflectively. ‘Well, I was. But it didn’t help, knowing that Hal loved you.’ She saw Fliss’s instinctive gesture of embarrassed denial and smiled. ‘Sorry. I know you hate this kind of emoting and stuff, but it’s true. Don’t you feel resentful for the way our lives were messed up by the adults in our families? I should have stuck with Adam but my parents were bowled over by Hal – and so was I, of course. He was so confident and mature. But without pressure from them I think I’d have been quite happy to stay with Adam. And as for you and Hal, well, that was crazy, really, wasn’t it? All that first cousin stuff. Even if your fathers were identical twins I can’t see why there was such a fuss about it.’
‘I do think that we gave in too easily,’ said Fliss. ‘But we forget how it was all those years ago. It was hard to go against the wishes of our elders and we were all so young.’
The car passed over Shinner’s Bridge, past the waterwheel, and Maria looked down into the glittering shining river.
‘It’s been a mess,’ she said sadly, ‘and I’ve been such a fool. I can’t tell you how much there is that I regret. Thanks for letting me come down; it’s been important.’
‘You’re always welcome,’ Fliss answered with an effort, still taken aback by such plain, unaffected speaking. She couldn’t decide whether this was another piece of play-acting on Maria’s part: the role of the penitent prodigal, perhaps?
‘Am I?’ Maria was looking at her rather quizzically. ‘I’m not sure Jolyon feels that way. Or you. Hal doesn’t really care either way, of course. Why should he?’
‘I think Jo has a lot of trust to rebuild.’ Fliss decided that they could both play the honesty game. ‘You can’t do that in one weekend.’
Maria bit her lip. ‘No, I realize that. I know how it looks to him. To all of you. Adam’s gone, Ed’s gone. Who shall I turn to now? I can’t deny it. But Adam’s death was a terrible shock and it’s woken me up to certain things. Maybe it’s too late to make amends, but I’ve got to try, and especially with Jolyon. Is that wrong?’
They drove into the station yard and Fliss pulled up near the fence and sat for a moment with the engine idling.
‘No,’ she said at last, ‘of course not. But you’ve got to remember that people can’t simply forgive and forget to order. You might have had an epiphany but he hasn’t.’
Maria looked at Fliss. ‘You see things so clearly,’ she said rather wistfully. ‘I’ve always envied you your clear-sightedness. I seem to spend my life in such a stupid muddle. Thanks for the lift. Don’t come on to the platform. I can manage.’
‘Of course I shall come,’ Fliss said. ‘I’d worry in case the train didn’t turn up or you were waiting for ages. Look, you climb out so that I can pull in against the fence and then we’ll get your case out.’
‘And after all that,’ Fliss said to Prue later, ‘I invited her down for Hal’s birthday and then I drove home regretting it and feeling quite cross. As if I’d been manipulated.’
‘No, no.’ Prue put her book aside and shook her head. ‘You did quite right. Poor Maria. It’s clear that the shock of Adam’s death has opened her eyes to many things and it can be so painful. That was kind of you, Fliss.’
‘I didn’t feel kind. Part of me thinks she’s getting off lightly. It’s a bit like the Prodigal Son, isn’t it? He behaves disgracefully and then wanders in saying, “Sorry,” and everyone is expected to be thrilled to bits.’
Prue laughed. ‘Do you remember saying that to darling Theo when you were small? You were terribly upset that the elder son was so undervalued, and Theo had to try to explain that there were faults on both sides.’
‘Did he?’ Fliss frowned. ‘I don’t remember that.’
‘You were a bit young for it, I expect. The gist, as I remember it, was that, although the younger son had been wild and thoughtless, the older son was resentful and angry. There was a lack of generosity in his self-righteousness that was just as damaging in its way as the profligacy of his younger brother. At least, that’s how Theo saw it.’
Fliss was silent, still frowning, and presently Prue picked up her book again and left her to her thoughts.
On the train, Maria sat in a trance of surprise and delight.
‘Why don’t you come down for Hal’s birthday?’ Fliss had said, just as the train appeared around the bend in the track. ‘Think about it and let me know,’ and then there had been the bustle of finding the right carriage and saying goodbye, and now she sat quite still, hardly believing her luck.
There was no need to think about it – the answer was ‘Yes, please,’ – but she felt rather relieved that she hadn’t been too pathetically eager. Now she had something to look forward to; to plan for in the empty days ahead. Suddenly, at the prospect of the tiny annexe, the endless silence, the pointless meals for one, Maria fell prey to a sinking, gut-churning misery. No Adam talking about his plans for the garden, or a fishing trip, or coming home with tickets for the theatre; no Adam in the big, cold bed or sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper.
She stared resolutely through her tears, thinking about the warmth and companionship at The Keep and how once she’d despised it.
‘I’ve never seen community living as your scene,’ Fliss had said – and how right she’d been.
It was the prospect of that community living, thought Maria, as the train pulled in at Exeter St David’s, that was the thin end of the wedge. It was my first real step away from Hal and back to Adam. I don’t regret going back to Adam but I wish I could have done it with less damage. What a selfish prat I was.
There was a little twist of pain in her heart when she thought about Jolyon; he’d been the scapegoat. Hal had Fliss and she’d had Adam and Ed – but poor Jolyon had borne the real brunt of the rupture: he’d endured the rows and scenes, and then being sent away to boarding school while Ed stayed at home, cherished and beloved, and went daily to the choir school. When she’d finally moved in with Adam there hadn’t even been a bedroom for Jo in that first little house in Salisbury. He’d had a Put-u-up in Ed’s bedroom
and she’d actively encouraged him to spend his holidays at The Keep whether Hal was at home there on leave or not. Jo’s unswerving love for her – and the way he looked so much like Hal – had made her feel guilty and resentful. Remembering, Maria burned with a scalding shame. She wondered if it would ever be possible that Jo might forgive her. She’d noticed that he couldn’t bring himself to call her ‘Mum’ or to be really at ease with her but maybe, if she persevered, she might break down the barrier between them.
‘You might have had an epiphany,’ Fliss had said, ‘but he hasn’t.’
She thought about Fliss; how strong she was, how upright: that cool, clear look that shone like a merciless beam of light upon her own shortcomings. Maria shuddered away from the shame of her memories, from the muddle and mess of the past. Suddenly she remembered what Jolyon had said about the ginger jar, that it was a symbol of loyalty and friendship: ‘…though a relationship might be damaged it didn’t necessarily mean that it was irretrievably destroyed. Sometimes it could even become more special.’
They’d been Fliss’s words, he’d told her, and Maria wondered why Fliss had given the ginger jar to Jolyon in the first place. How miraculous if the words could, sometime in the future, apply to the relationship between her and her son.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
They’d parked on Robin Upright’s Hill and were now walking away from the car, arm in arm, whilst Juno and Pan ran amongst the rusty bracken and Tacker splashed joyfully through the earth-red puddles on the deeply rutted track.
‘I can’t see it,’ Jolyon said gloomily, ‘I really can’t. It’s been such a shock realizing how resentful I still feel about her.’
Henrietta squeezed his arm sympathetically. ‘I can understand that. Well. You know how I feel about Mum.’
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