‘They need to walk,’ Ed said. ‘It’s a social occasion – a pack thing. Running round by themselves in the field at the back of the house is not the same.’
Kate threw a stick for Ralph, the setter, and he pretended to go after it to be polite, but stopped before he reached it, arrested by a compelling smell in a clump of grass. Chewy was bouncing puppy-like all over Esmé, but she was a different dog out of the house, kept her end up, and looked much less frail and cowed.
‘They look happy,’ Kate said. ‘Mind you, it’s such a lovely day, who wouldn’t? And those woods – I love the colour of the new leaves. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep.”’
‘Robert Frost,’ he said. ‘But that was woods in the snow.’
‘It applies all year round. There’s something about them that just makes you want to plunge in and explore, don’t you think?’
‘This particular wood is not all that deep. If you plunged in, you’d have plunged out the other side before you knew it. But I know what you mean. There’s always a sort of mystery about them.’
‘Do they belong to you?’ she asked.
‘Not to me, but to the estate, yes,’ he said; a shadow crossed his eyes and she was afraid she’d spoiled it. But it passed, and he said, ‘We don’t have much on this side of the valley any more, but The Barrow – that’s this hill – and the wood, and the quarry over that way, they’re still Blackmore. Everything up as far as that footpath over there – can you see the line? It runs back down to the road and comes out opposite the Barley Mow. That used to be an estate pub as well, once upon a time.’
‘How big is it all together – the estate?’ she asked.
‘A bit less than thirteen thousand acres.’
She opened her eyes. ‘That sounds enormous!’
‘It’s fair. But you have to remember that most of that is not premium land. It’s high moor, rough grazing at best. The Blackmore fortune was originally based on wool – and there was a time when wool really did produce a fortune. Most of the churches were built on wool money, and the big houses, and the old schools. “White gold”, they used to call it. But it’s not a valuable commodity any more. Sometimes you can’t give it away. Which was why my great-grandfather built the factory, to process and weave our own wool, and sell the cloth. Blackmore tweed is still pretty famous. Not as famous as Harris tweed – but not as scratchy, either.’ She saw it was all right to laugh. He didn’t laugh, but he looked pleased by her amusement. ‘We make a certain amount of clothing as well, for a few exclusive markets, mostly in London and New York.’
‘So, does it pay now?’
‘The cloth makes a good contribution to the estate, and we’re hoping to improve on that. Tweed is becoming fashionable again, and in particular the Chinese market for top-quality English cloth is opening up and promises to be huge. The clothing is probably marginal. It’s labour-intensive and it needs a lot more expansion to get the overheads down. That’s where I hoped Jack would make his mark – getting out and talking to people, finding new markets. People like him and he gets on with everybody. He has charm. He could sell ice cream to Eskimos if—’ He stopped abruptly.
It was easy for Kate to guess the end of that sentence, and to understand Ed had stopped himself out of loyalty. Jack could do it, if he would put his mind to it, if he stopped lounging about and spending money and put in some solid hard work instead.
‘He is charming,’ she said, allowing the ‘but’ to show in her intonation.
Ed sighed. ‘It’s in his own interest to buckle down to it. The estate has to provide for all of us, and the better it does the better we do.’
‘Surely he must know that?’ she said tentatively. She didn’t want anything to break this delicate thread of trust between them.
‘Of course he knows it.’ There seemed to be more coming, but instead there was silence. She looked sideways at him. He was frowning, obviously thinking something through. She waited with bated breath. At last he said – quite low, and almost as if not to her but to himself – ‘The estate ought to be doing better than it is. I can’t understand it. But I’m going to get to the bottom of it.’
‘You mean – make it more efficient?’ she asked carefully.
‘That too,’ he said. ‘But there’s something else going on.’ A pause. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes. I’m not giving up on it. There have been Blackmores here for five hundred years. I’m damned if I’ll let us be the last.’
They came out on to the footpath he had mentioned, which ran gently downhill to the road, and Kate could see the Barley Mow on the other side of it, snugged down under the lee of the steep wooded hill that rose up to Lar Common. It had a thatched roof and tall chimneys, small windows and deep eaves, so it looked like someone with a fancy hat pulled down very low over their eyes.
Ed called the dogs to him and leashed them, and with the leads held between them they crossed the road and went in. It was a small place, cosy and unpretentious, with a big fireplace, slightly battered comfortable furniture, a few pictures on the walls: it felt exactly like what a ‘public house’ originally was – someone’s home into which the public were welcomed. The landlord, a chunky man in his fifties, came out to greet them – they were the only ones in there – and said, ‘Hello, Ed. Long time no see.’
‘I’ve been rather busy lately – too busy. All right with the dogs?’
‘Of course. Good dogs always welcome.’ He smiled enquiringly at Kate, and Ed introduced her, then exchanged a few comments with the landlord that proved they had a long and comfortable friendship. Kate, looking round, could see, without having thought about it before, how this would be Ed’s natural milieu, just as the Blue Ball was Jack’s. Strange that two brothers could be so different.
They ordered sandwiches and pints, and carried their glasses outside. There was a small, sheltered garden on the south-west side of the pub which was warm in the sunshine: an area of lawn; a flower bed, edged with forget-me-nots and lady’s mantle, in which iris and achillea rose up from a riot of marigolds and multicoloured snapdragons; and a tangle of white jasmine hanging over the boundary hedge that was just coming into flower. Posh and manicured it wasn’t; but it felt homelike and easy and safe. They unleashed the dogs, and sat down at one of those table-and-bench combinations with their backs to the warmed white wall of the cottage, and Kate felt completely, utterly happy.
As the level of the pint sank, Ed seemed to relax more. They talked, carefully at first, but gradually with increasing ease, like friends. The sandwiches came – crusty white-bread doorsteps of local cheese and ham – and he talked about the estate. He told her things out of its history, the people who were its stay and its purpose, great characters from the past when most estate workers never went more than a few miles from the place they were born. He recounted things about the area, folklore and festivals, recalled great celebrations and never-forgotten disasters, brush fires and storms and escaped bulls. He talked of dogs and horses he had loved; dug out funny incidents from his childhood, stories involving Jack and various friends who had grown up with them. She saw his tense dark face relax and grow animated, heard his voice lighten as the warmth and humour that was normally suppressed came into it. He didn’t quite smile, but she could see what he would look like if he did.
She talked about her childhood, too. It seemed the safer place for them both to be – the past, before their separate hearts were broken.
‘It must be wonderful to come from a big family,’ he said. ‘Five sisters, eh?’
‘That’s how I learned to dance,’ she said. ‘Waiting for the bathroom.’
And he laughed. He stopped immediately, but she had proved it was possible.
‘It must be lonely for you here, stuck in that cottage all by yourself,’ he said.
‘I’ve hardly had time to be lonely,’ she said. ‘People here are so friendly, I have to be quite stern to get a moment to myself.’
‘I’m glad you find it so,’ he said. He hesitated. ‘Jac
k is – a friendly fellow.’
‘We’ve agreed he has great charm,’ she said cautiously.
He frowned and chewed his lip. ‘This is probably none of my business. I don’t want to …’ He looked at her, and then quickly away again – a flash of blue barely seen, like a kingfisher on a shadowy river.
‘We’re just friends,’ she assured him, cutting through his difficulties. ‘I had a very upsetting relationship in London with a man of great charm, so I know what to look out for. I’m not in any danger. I like Jack enormously, but in a purely friendly way.’
‘I’m relieved,’ he said, and for a moment her heart jumped, her fertile imagination racing on to how that sentence could end – because that means I have a chance with you myself.
But he continued, sounding more comfortable, ‘It’s not a popular view, least of all with Jack himself, but I’m convinced he’s still in love with his ex-wife.’
Well, what had she expected? Fool, she berated herself.
‘I think it’s a large part of his trouble, why he can’t settle to anything,’ he went on.
‘And how does she feel?’ she asked in a remarkably steady voice.
‘I’m not sure. You might have a chance to judge for yourself this weekend. It’s Jack’s weekend to have Theo, so she’ll drop him off, and I dare say she’ll stop for a chat and a cup of tea, so you might see her.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting Theo,’ she said.
‘He’s a great kid,’ said Ed with enthusiasm. ‘You’ll love him. It’s nice that you get on so well with Jocasta, too.’
‘I love her. She’s a hoot,’ Kate said.
‘She needs someone like you – an older sister, if you like, someone she can look up to as well as confide in. Camilla’s—’ He stopped, probably loyalty kicking in again. ‘I don’t think girls ever confide in their mothers, do they?’
‘You’re asking the wrong person. I had all the sisters I needed. But I’d be happy to be hers. As to Theo – I’ve been putting in some good practice with my next-door-neighbour’s six year old, so I’m about up to GCSE level with little boys. Does Theo like Power Rangers?’
‘I think he’s more of a Thomas the Tank Engine man.’
‘I can do Thomas,’ Kate assured him gravely. ‘And I’ve majored in Postman Pat.’
The almost-smile was there again. It seemed to warm him, talking with her about his family. Perhaps there weren’t many people he could. Except – what about Banker Lady? the thought came to her like a cold breeze down the back of the neck.
She had to know. Not that there was any chance for her, but she wanted to know if he was happy, or was in process of becoming happy. So after a pause she said, ‘Tell me about your firm in London.’
He explained to her what a procurement consultancy did, and it sounded complicated but, she could see, necessary to modern big business. ‘We’re small, but getting a good reputation. It’s an area that’s expanding rapidly.’
‘And it helps support the estate?’
‘Cash income,’ he said. ‘Sometimes you can’t do without it.’
‘But you must be sad that it takes you away from here,’ she tried. ‘I don’t suppose you like London all that much – or is there something about it you enjoy?’
It didn’t work. He shrugged. ‘It’s a necessary evil,’ he said. ‘And I’m pretty much my own boss – I can come home at short notice if I’m needed. What I’m hoping to do is build up the firm until it attracts a takeover offer from one of the big agencies, then I can bring the money back and stay here. Perhaps just do the odd consult when it suits me.’
‘So you don’t want to leave London completely. I mean, never go back?’
He gave her an odd look. ‘Do you?’ he asked. ‘I thought when I first saw you that you were a complete cosmopolitanite, but you seem to have settled into this place like a native. Are you meaning to settle here, or are you going back?’
‘I haven’t decided,’ she hedged, and felt a bit glum. She hadn’t found out a thing about Banker Woman. If she existed, Ed-in-the-City was out of bounds. And if she didn’t, he’d come and live permanently here, and Ed-in-the-country would be out of reach.
They both lapsed into silence after that, busy with their own thoughts, and though it was a friendly silence, the sort of silence that only people at ease with each other can have, it didn’t satisfy Kate. He had reminded her that her time here was finite. Well, she had better get on and enjoy it as much as possible. She leaned back against the wall and half closed her eyes so she could look at him under her eyelashes. He was big and strong and dark, but more than that he was so real, as if he sucked some power or essence from this place which illuminated him more than anyone else. She saw vividly for the first time that it would be more than a shame if the estate failed and had to be sold – it would be a crime against nature. He and the land belonged to each other. She thought, when the time came, she would try to sell Little’s back to him, even if it meant forgoing any profit. She didn’t think she could ever now sell it to a stranger for a holiday cottage. It would just feel wrong.
It was quiet in the garden, with only the sound of the occasional passing car to disturb them. The dogs had stopped running about and were flopped on their sides in the sunshine, at peace with life, and bumblebees were working the snapdragons, slipping in and backing out industriously, humming like well-tuned engines. Ed was leaning back now too, and his hand was resting on the bench beside hers. It took all her will-power not to slide hers along a fraction so that they touched.
At last he stirred. ‘God, I was almost asleep.’
‘Me too,’ she lied. ‘It’s very peaceful here.’
‘It is. But though I hate to break up the party, I do have some work to do.’
‘Me too,’ she said again. She stretched luxuriously. ‘Thanks for lunch.’
He gave a quirk of the lips. ‘Not quite in the same league as the Blue Ball or the Ship,’ he said.
She turned to face him, so that he would believe her. ‘This is a different world, and much more real. I’ve enjoyed it so much.’
He looked at her gravely. ‘Yes, I have, too.’ But he seemed thoughtful. She was afraid she had sounded too eager and scared him. Back off, girl.
‘Would you look at those dogs,’ she said, standing up. ‘Will we have to carry them home?’
They didn’t talk much on the walk home, but it was not an uncomfortable silence. If she had alarmed him, he seemed to have got over it. When they did talk, it was like old friends – or old acquaintances, at least.
At the house, they unclipped the dogs, he took over the leads, and said, ‘Thanks for helping me walk them.’
‘It was a pleasure. Thanks for lunch.’
‘Are you up for another practice tomorrow?’
‘You bet. At the Ordes’ again?’
‘No, I think we should do some gallops and some hill work. Can you be here at ten? No, make it ten thirty, I’ve got some phone calls to make. You’re taking the riding clothes back with you?’
‘Yes, they’re in my car.’
‘Good. Well – tomorrow then? We’ll just have a couple of hours – what time did Camilla invite you for?’
‘She said teatime. I suppose that’s four, four thirty-ish?’
He nodded. ‘So that’ll give you time to go home after the ride.’
‘And clean up and pack a bag,’ she agreed.
‘Right. Tomorrow, then.’ He had been looking directly into her eyes; now he broke the contact quite abruptly and walked off. She turned the other way, towards her car. He was no flirt, that was for sure. People like Jack – like Mark – all smiles and easy kisses – were much easier to get on with. That was why idiots like her fell for them, over and over again. But no more. Once you’d met the real thing, you couldn’t be fooled again.
And much good would it do her!
She was too restless to stay home for what was left of the afternoon, so she drove into Taunton to B&Q to buy things she was goin
g to need next week, and window locks, and four heavy-duty bolts, one for the top and bottom of each of her doors. The front door was only on a Yale which a child could slip, and the back door had an old basic lock-plate which she felt could be shouldered in. It was not pleasant to be thinking of locks and bolts in a peaceful place like this; but even in Eden, once you had spotted the serpent’s trail, you couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there.
She got home and was unpacking her goodies when Dommie bounced in. ‘Where’ve you been? I got home from school but you weren’t here. I got a star for my English test. I can spell shark and aircraft and all the months except Janry and Febry. I got a goal in football. Jason picked his scab off and it bled again.’
‘It sounds like a full, rich day,’ Kate said. ‘I had a full, rich day, too.’
Dommie, the centre of his own universe, wasn’t interested in that. He grabbed her hand. ‘Come on,’ he said, tugging her towards the door. ‘I’ll draw you a picture of a frog turning into a prince, but you have to do the horse cos I can’t do horses.’
‘Hold on, scout. Isn’t it about your teatime?’
He stopped, scowled a moment, and then it cleared. ‘Mummy says,’ he chanted in the sing-song of the remembered message, ‘would you like to come and eat with us? She sent me when she heard your car.’
‘That’s very kind,’ Kate began, thinking of refusing.
‘It’s steak an’ kiddly pie,’ he added, ‘so you’ve got to.’
‘I quite see that,’ she said gravely. ‘Who can say no to a kiddly? Lead on, captain.’ Suddenly she felt the last thing she wanted to do was to stay in alone. She was tired and a bit stiff and just slightly low, and an evening with Kay and Darren in front of the telly was all she asked of life. She took Dommie’s appallingly sticky little paw in hers and let him tow her away.
When they got back from the ride the next day, they rode in through the main gates, and Kate said at once, ‘Whoo, nice car!’
It was a silver Mercedes sports car with black leather interior. The smell of exhaust on the air proved it had just arrived.
Kate's Progress Page 22