by C F Dunn
She snatched her hand from mine, her face hardening. “I don’t know what’s got into you; you’ve been acting odd since you met him. I just thought you’d be happy for me. Matthew’s OK about it so why can’t you be? Just forget it; I don’t need your approval.” She crashed out of the room and a few moments later I heard her elevated voice in the hall followed by a slammed door.
Matthew came in. “So you told her?”
“Not all of it. I tried to warn her but I made a mess of it. I believe she thinks I’m just interfering. He’s told her he was married, but I don’t think she knows he still is.”
“Is he, Emma?” he said quietly.
How would I know that unless Guy had told me? “Matthew, there’s something I want to tell you…”
The door flew open and Ellie stalked in, snatching her bag from the desk chair and giving me a filthy look before stomping out again.
“You were saying?” he asked as the clock counted the seconds into which the ensuing silence fell. I stared miserably out of the window – anything rather than read the colours that surrounded him in shifting tones of doubt.
“It doesn’t really matter; I’ll tell you later.” I wondered if I imagined the slight exhalation that might have been a sigh. “What do you make of him?”
Subdued, all he said was, “It’s too soon to say; he’s convincing enough.”
I whirled around. “You’re kidding! Matthew, have you heard anything I’ve said?”
“I’ve heard everything, Emma. We’ll see. In the meantime, we’ll take it one step at a time.” Except for the darkness in his eyes, he had drawn a veil between us so that I could no longer read him. I wanted him to react, to rant, to yell – as I longed to do – but this calm acceptance was insufferable. “Have it your own way,” I threw at him, and stormed from the room as the door crashed shut behind me, leaving him in no doubt how I felt, but without the words to say it.
I went to see Ellie later that evening at the Stables, but Jeannie curtly told me that she had a headache and all but closed the door in my face. I sent her a text instead, but none returned. I didn’t press Matthew any further. I couldn’t believe he would be taken in by Guy, not after everything I had been through, after everything I’d told him. When I said as much, he just looked at me calmly and said that people are not always as they seem. I slept alone again that night.
The following morning I couldn’t wait to get out of the house despite the mist that crept up from the river during the night and masked the world in droplets. I made my way down to the little footbridge that spanned the water. The river was docile now, and my feet dangled above the surface as I leaned my head against the lichen-covered handrail. I never imagined I could forgive the river for nearly drowning Flora, nor the rocks for smashing Matthew’s shoulder, but it had undergone a benign transformation, as Guy would have me believe he had done. But I didn’t believe him, and what horrified me more than his unknown agenda was that others might.
“I thought I saw someone come this way,” Henry greeted me from the riverbank. “I was out for a walk. Would you like some company, or would you rather be left alone to your thoughts?”
I smiled wanly. “I think that my thoughts and I need to part company for a bit.”
He sat down next to me, resting his feet on the top of a specked boulder that poked its head like a grey seal out of the water. “Problem?” He waited as I watched the river, considering whether to tell my stepson what bothered me.
“Yes,” I said eventually, “there’s a problem.”
I told him about Ellie. I told him about Guy. I told him more about my past than perhaps I would have done in any other circumstance but, like his father, Henry was a good listener, and my anxiety spilled out of me like water.
He ran a hand through his neat beard. “I see, and you’ve told Dad all this?”
“Yes, he knows, but yesterday it was as if he believed Guy despite everything I’ve said.”
“And did he say that?”
“Well, no – not in so many words.”
Henry smiled kindly. “Emma, at the risk of sounding patronizing, I’ve known my father for a very long time. He sees through people better than anyone. Whatever he might have you believe, he won’t be taken in by this man, not after what you’ve told me.”
“But Ellie wouldn’t listen to me. Guy has her infatuated.”
“And you don’t believe he loves her?”
“No!”
“Then why do you think he’s here?”
I couldn’t answer that. I knew what I suspected – or at least, what I feared – although I had nothing but the grinding in the pit of my stomach and certainly no evidence to prove it. I picked at loose lichen on the splitting wood, buying time.
“Do you think he’s here to make trouble for you?” Henry asked.
I flicked lichen into the water and watched it being carried away. “Possibly.” I looked up at him. “I honestly don’t know, but whatever I think, why ever he’s here, he’s trouble.”
“And you just want somebody to believe you.”
“Yes, because I don’t know what else to do.”
He placed his hand over mine as I picked at the rotting handrail. “I believe you, Emma, just as my father does. Ellie’s blinded by love,” he laughed gruffly, “and I know well enough what that’s like; but sooner or later, she’ll come to her senses. Let’s hope for her sake that it’s sooner rather than too late. In the meantime, you know where I am if you ever want to talk.” He stood and offered to help me up. “Make sure you tell Dad everything; he’ll know what to do with the information.” He hauled me to my feet and I dusted myself down.
“Thanks, I’ll remember.”
I loitered a while, watching until he disappeared into the mist, all the time mindful that there was one piece of information I withheld and that, with each passing day, my reluctance to tell Matthew about the encounter brought me one step closer to complicity and guilt.
Matthew had gone out by the time I arrived back. A terse note lay on the table – “I’ll be back by lunch” – but he hadn’t said from where. The house felt empty and cold. I mooched about trying to occupy myself but I listened all the time for the sound of his car and couldn’t settle to anything. Just before noon I heard an engine. By the time the door from the courtyard opened I appeared engrossed in a fifteenth-century transcript I had hurriedly opened.
“I was hoping my grandfather would be here.” Maggie shut the door behind her. “But I see you are all alone.” She hadn’t bothered to knock. It was the first time I’d seen her since the wedding – and it was too soon.
“One of these days you’ll forget and call him that in front of a stranger. He’s out,” I added, redundantly.
To my annoyance, she pulled out a chair and sat gracefully. “No matter, I’ll wait.” Neither of us pretended: I made no pretence of hospitality, and she expected none. It would be only a matter of time before the hostile truce collapsed. I turned back to the transcript, aware she studied me with transparent curiosity. She sat absolutely still except for the forefinger of one hand that tapped the time away. Tac, tac, tac – a neatly filed nail, plain and unadorned drummed. Tac, tac.
She broke the silence first. “Have you told him?”
It was no good trying to ignore her; I’d read the same sentence five times and still didn’t know what it said. I didn’t look up. “Told who what?”
“Have you told my grandfather – your husband – what you were doing the other day?”
For goodness sake. I put the book down with a thump. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about, Maggie, or do I have to guess?”
“Did you think nobody would see you in that part of town and that you’d find anonymity among the masses? Or are you trying to flaunt it and don’t care if he knows?”
Town? Had she seen me in town with Elena the other day? Idiot! No, not Elena – Guy. The hospital wasn’t far from the restaurant and I hadn’t imagined being watched at all. What d
id she think she saw?
“What of it, Maggie?”
“So you’ve told your husband you met a man?” She made it sound as if I had propositioned him.
I pushed back from the table and stood up. “That’s none of your business.”
“You made it my business when you married my grandfather. You made it my business when you kissed another man.”
“I think you’ll find that he kissed me. It was none of my doing.”
“That’s not what I saw,” she said silkily. No, it wouldn’t be, because it wasn’t what she wanted to see. This fitted very nicely with her warped perception of me. A car door shut in the courtyard.
“Don’t you ever get tired of all this?” I asked her. “Don’t you have your own life to get on with without meddling in ours?”
“He is my life. I’ll still be here when you’re gone.”
“Don’t bet on it,” I growled as Matthew walked in. He deposited two large bags on the table. He kissed me first, taking in my tight lips and taut atmosphere, before turning to his granddaughter.
“Maggie, we didn’t expect you today.”
“I came to see how you are.”
“We are well; thank you for your concern.”
She pulled a face. “No, I meant how are you?”
“I am fine; there is no reason why I shouldn’t be. Are you staying?”
She looked uncertain for the first time. “I thought that after the other day…”
His eyes darkened and flared. “I said, we are fine. Now, if you are not staying, I have things to discuss with my wife.”
We were both taken aback. I had never heard him speak to Maggie so brusquely; nor had she by the way she stared back at him. She left, and moments later the brief sound of a car engine bursting into life filled the courtyard.
“Matthew, she wanted to…”
“I know why she came,” he interrupted. His face softened. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I didn’t anticipate her being here. Have you had lunch yet?” I shook my head. “I thought not; I’ve brought some back with me. You like chowder, don’t you?”
It reminded me instantly of Elena’s uneaten meal and what I wanted to tell him, what I needed to confess. “Yes, but…”
“Good, sit down. It should still be hot.”
He wasn’t in the mood to listen. He unpacked the bags with short, precise movements as I ate haddock chowder hot enough to scald my throat.
“What’s all this for?” I indicated the pile of food in front of me. “We still have loads left from my birthday. I can’t eat all this in a week.”
He vanished into the pantry with an armful of goods and returned some minutes later carrying six bottles, which he lined up on the table.
“Wine, Matthew?”
He checked the bottles carefully, wiping dust off each shoulder. “It’s for lunch tomorrow.”
“Are we having guests?”
He avoided my eyes. “Yes – guests. We are having guests tomorrow.” He leaned his knuckles on the table, bowing his head as if steeling himself for a fight. My fork hovered between my mouth and the bowl.
“Who, Matthew?”
“Ellie and Guy.”
The fork chinked stridently against the porcelain as I threw it in the bowl and stood abruptly, my face burning. “Why? Why did you invite him here? To rub my face in it? Ellie’s not talking to me and he’s a… a bastard. You can entertain him if you want, but I won’t be here to help you!” I swiped at the bowl and it flew off the end of the table, shattering against the floor, and ran from the kitchen and up the stairs before he could stop me.
He gave me a few moments before I heard the door to our bedroom open, and his soft tread across the floor. He crouched down beside me. “Emma.” I turned my back on him and hunkered further into the armchair by the window, hiding my face. “Emma, please…” He put his arms around my hunched form. “My love, I know it doesn’t make sense…”
“No, it doesn’t,” I spat.
“But please, trust me.”
I nudged his arms from around me. “How can I? You didn’t tell me, you didn’t even ask. Did you assume I would be OK with this? Did you? I don’t want him in my house – our home, Matthew. I don’t want him poking around and I don’t want him anywhere near me. Look what he’s already done.” I raised my hand and counted finger by finger. “He’s persuaded my best friend I’ve broken his heart; he’s quaffing coffee with Sam; he’s somehow managed to convince Ellie he’s in love with her… did you know she’s sleeping with him? Ugh! She won’t even talk to me now and Jeannie probably thinks he’s ideal boyfriend material. He’s wormed his way into our lives and no doubt I’ll be cast in the role of village witch and nobody will believe anything I say about him.” I broke off to take a breath before continuing despondently, “And he even has you thinking he’s not so bad.” I scrunched my fists because the pain of my knuckles cracking was preferable to the tears that wanted to flow. Matthew covered my hands with his and I felt his regret. I didn’t dare look at him.
“No, Emma, he hasn’t. I believe everything you’ve ever told me about him. I no more want him in our home than you do and I certainly don’t want him near my wife, nor having sex with my great-granddaughter, but this is a case of ‘know thy enemy’.”
“I know him,” I fumed. “I know him too well.”
“Yes,” he said patiently, “I know you do and that’s why I believe you absolutely, but I want him to think he has the upper hand. If he’s as arrogant as I think he is, he’ll let slip sooner or later because, whatever else he is up to, he’ll want me to acknowledge his superiority.”
Angrily, I dragged my hand across my eyes. “Is that the real reason?”
“What else could it be?”
“I… I didn’t tell you that I met Guy the other day – in town.” Matthew remained expressionless. “I didn’t go there to meet him,” I clarified. “Guy got Elena to set it up. She thought she was helping me, but I didn’t know that’s what they’d arranged until it was too late and he turned up.” When he still didn’t respond, I added, “I didn’t tell you because… well, because…” My excuses sounded feeble even before I’d voiced them. “Oh blast, I just didn’t. I’m sorry.” I checked to see how he was taking it, surprised to find him smiling.
“I know. Maggie told me that evening.” The demon tail lights – that figured. “I would rather you had told me yourself…”
“I’m sorry.”
“… because I think your account would be more accurate than Maggie’s. She said she saw you in a compromising position outside a restaurant. ‘A passionate embrace,’ I think she said. She rather spoiled her quaint use of language by describing it as you gluing your face to his. Rather a gross depiction, I thought.”
My face reddened. “He kissed me; I didn’t want him to.”
“I didn’t think you did. I reckoned by her description that it must have been Guy.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you didn’t. I trust you, Emma. Whatever your reason for not telling me at the time, I have no doubt your motives were blameless, although,” he appended, “the coffee worried me – you still had tachycardia when you arrived home. You were lucky it was nothing more.”
My hand went to my lips as they curled in revulsion. “I didn’t drink any, but he had. I wondered if you knew about him; you’ve been acting oddly.”
He frowned. “Have I? I suppose I have a lot on my mind, but it’s nothing you’ve done. What did Guy want the other day?”
“My forgiveness.”
Matthew’s raised brows said it all. “And have you forgiven him?”
“I can’t. I tried to, or at least I know I should, but how can I when I don’t trust him? I can’t put my finger on it. He says the right things, he sounds genuine, but his words don’t add up.”
“That’s why we have to act as if they do.”
I screwed my face. “It’s deceitful – I hate lies.”
&
nbsp; “It’s what we do, Emma; just remember why we need to do it.”
“It’s not something I’m likely to forget. I don’t like the thought of him here, but I understand why you have invited him – keep your friends close and your enemies closer – but don’t expect me to like it. I can’t promise to be the perfect hostess.”
“But you’ll try,” he encouraged, “for Ellie’s sake as much as ours.”
I shrugged my resignation. “Yes, I’ll try. I’m sorry I let rip earlier; you caught me by surprise.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I should have broached it more tactfully. I’m out of practice.” Truthfully, there would have been no safe way to tackle such an explosive issue. “And while we are on the subject of Guy,” he slipped in, “I want you to tell me everything you know about him: his past, his marriage, his work, his interests. Every detail, no matter how insignificant it might appear.”
“Know thy enemy?” I said.
“Know him, indeed,” he replied.
CHAPTER
25
Love Makes Fools
The following day grew stiflingly warm under the overcast sky. By the time Ellie and Guy arrived I had developed a headache that was more to do with the unrelenting tension than the oppressive heat. I greeted Ellie with a hug she barely returned. Guy, on the other hand, embraced me like an old friend as he handed me a large bouquet tied with an extravagant bow that matched the stunning pink of the gerberas it contained. Unnervingly, he wore a burgundy shirt, adding insult to injury, and I wondered whether he’d done so on purpose.
In the drawing room, Matthew threw the windows open and the sluggish air heaved. Guy wiped sweat from his neck. “It’s hot as Hades; you could do with air conditioning in here. I don’t know how you stand it.”
Matthew interceded as I bristled at the implied criticism. “It’s only for a few weeks of the year and if it becomes too hot we’ll take a trip into the mountains until it cools down. Let me get you something to drink. Ellie, white wine as usual?”
“Sure, thanks. Guy’ll have the same.”