The Homecoming

by Rosie Howard

  ‘I think, if anyone’s Long John Silver it’s me,’ Maddy joked, waving her crutch gingerly in the confined space. ‘Is it for today?’ she asked, looking at the pasta. ‘Only I’m supposed to be going to Serena’s for supper tonight.’

  ‘I know, Ben told me. It’s fine. Actually the lasagne’s for the freezer. It’s one of Patrick’s favourites, or it used to be, in any case. He can take it out in portions and bung it in the microwave after I’ve gone.’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ said Maddy, putting her arm around her mother’s waist and giving her a squeeze. ‘Not exactly a holiday for you.’

  ‘Wasn’t supposed to be,’ said Helen stoutly. ‘But I can’t stay much longer,’ she warned. ‘I’ll get Patrick settled back in, then I’m going to have to go home.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Now, you need to go and have a bath and get ready for your date.’

  ‘It’s not a date,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to pitch to Giles for funding tonight. It’s work.’

  By the time Ben had arrived Maddy was wearing clean jeans – she hoped it wasn’t formal – her mother had ironed her favourite shirt and, with her hair clean and a bit of make-up on, she felt more civilised and together than she had done for ages.

  ‘You look pretty,’ said Ben. ‘These are for you to give to Serena,’ he added, waving a bunch of freesias. ‘They just need a bit of wrapping or something; they’re a bit drippy.’

  ‘You think of everything,’ said Maddy, partly in admiration, partly in slight irritation for reasons she couldn’t explain, even to herself. ‘Although I’d probably have chosen a bottle of wine.’

  ‘Got that,’ he said. ‘In the car. Two bottles, actually, red and white. Thanks,’ he added to Helen, who had taken the freesias from him and deftly wrapped the stems in foil before handing them back.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘Yep. Oh no, hang on … I just need my laptop.’

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Ben, ‘you start off down the stairs – it takes her a while,’ he added to Helen.

  ‘I know, bless her,’ said Helen, her head on one side, watching Maddy hook her crutches awkwardly onto one arm and grab the stair rail.

  ‘It’s my leg,’ she muttered crossly, ‘not my ears – or my brain …’

  Travelling in Ben’s MGB, with the top down so her crutches could stick out the back, the drive to Serena and Giles’s farm was idyllic. They were travelling towards the setting sun, the little car’s headlights sweeping the hedgerows, startling the rabbits into their burrows and raising the roosting crows out of the trees for one last swoop and wheel against a flaming pink and orange sky. Sitting in the little car, next to Ben, Maddy’s heart swelled with unexpected happiness.

  ‘Nervous?’ he shouted over the sound of the wind, nodding his head at the laptop on Maddy’s knee.

  ‘A bit,’ she admitted. ‘I’m out of practice.’

  How very far away her London business seemed – a life where sharp little suits and presentations to world-weary businessmen were an everyday occurence. Simon didn’t bother asking when she was returning any more. A week ago he had mentioned on the phone a new freelancer he was using; she was called Alexis, and was very competent, apparently. More than anything, he had explained, she was there when he needed her. The clients were impressed too, Maddy had gathered.

  The party was already in full swing by the time they arrived. A hugely tall and hairy man with a jutting jaw was holding forth to Flora, sitting legs akimbo on one of the farmhouse chairs, his elbows on the back and his hands waving expressively.

  Serena was leaning against the Aga swigging wine and wiping tears of mirth away from her eyes and Giles was topping up the man’s glass encouragingly.

  ‘Darlings!’ shrieked Serena. ‘You’re here.’ She swooped across and swept them both up into a three-way hug. Maddy emerged feeling dishevelled and held her hand out to Giles, nearly smacking him in the eye with one of her crutches in the process.

  ‘Hullo, Maddy,’ he said, dodging her crutch adeptly and kissing her on both cheeks. ‘Lovely to see you again. I understand I’m your prey, tonight.’

  She patted her laptop case. ‘So it seems.’

  ‘We’re not making her do work,’ insisted Serena. ‘Okay … maybe just a tiny bit, but wine first, darling. And food. I think I might have made a bit too much,’ she added, lifting the lid of a huge casserole dish on the top of the Aga, which immediately intensified the delicious smells.

  ‘Never too much, when I’m here,’ said Keith, waggling an eyebrow archly at Flora, who giggled and went pink.

  ‘Too true,’ said Serena. ‘For a man who’s obsessed with his figure, you eat like a pig.’

  ‘Buns of steel,’ he agreed. ‘My arse is the talk of Brighton clubland, I’ll have you know. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.’

  ‘I think the less said about your reputation the better,’ said Serena. ‘Keith’s a shocking tart,’ she explained to Maddy.

  ‘He gets through more boyfriends than I’ve had hot dinners,’ agreed Giles, sniffing the casserole appreciatively. ‘Are we eating soon, my darling?’

  ‘We are,’ said Serena. ‘Now, Keith sit next to Flora, if you promise not to corrupt her, Maddy sit next to Giles so you can get up to speed. I want you to look at Keith’s photography later. He’s done an amazing job. The magazines won’t be able to resist.’

  ‘Is it all done already?’ asked Maddy, disappointed.

  ‘Just the cut-out product shots to go,’ explained Serena. ‘We’re going to rig up a white backdrop in the conservatory.’

  ‘She’s getting her money’s worth out of me,’ said Keith. ‘And she’s too mean to hire a proper studio.’

  ‘I thoroughly approve of keeping costs down,’ said Giles, leaning over to fill Keith’s glass by way of appeasement. ‘Remember, half of all businesses fail in the first year and the most common reason for failure is cash flow.’

  ‘That’s why we need your money, darling,’ said Serena, dropping a kiss on his head as she passed. ‘But enough; let’s eat.’

  The casserole, served with huge mounds of red cabbage and mashed potato, was delicious. They all had seconds and then regretted it when faced with pudding, which was salted caramel chocolate fondants, crisp on top, with crystals of sea salt. The little individual puddings were filled with the most unctuous chocolate sauce because they had been brought out of the Aga at the perfect moment.

  ‘My wife is a woman of many talents,’ said Giles appreciatively as he poured a thick river of double cream into the middle of his chocolate fondant. Maddy was beginning to understand the reason for his ruddy face and distinctly rounded belly. ‘In the kitchen she’s a chef, in the parlour she’s a maid and in the bedroom she’s a—’

  ‘That’s enough,’ shouted Serena as laughter exploded around her. ‘Now, who wants coffee?’

  ‘Maddy and I will have ours in the library,’ said Giles, getting up to hand Maddy her crutches with a little bow. ‘We have business to discuss.’

  ‘I need my laptop,’ she told him. ‘I’ve done a little presentation.’

  ‘Oh God, spare me “Death by PowerPoint”,’ he said. ‘Oh, go on, then. I accept my fate,’ he added kindly, seeing Maddy’s face fall.

  In the end Maddy and Giles sat side by side on a saggy old leather sofa in front of the fire. He was the most incredibly fast reader, she discovered, fixing his eyes on the screen with the focus of a sparrowhawk spotting its prey. He had a way of summing up her points and then asking an incisive question, which soon made the presentation irrelevant anyway. She found herself tumbling over her words as she rushed to share their ideas. She soon learnt that Giles wouldn’t waste time agreeing with her, cutting her short as soon as he’d learnt enough to answer his question and firing off another. Rather than finding it intimidating, she started to enjoy herself. He was constructive, too, making some good points about the structure of the business, which she felt sure Serena and Flora would accept.

  Eventual
ly, they got to the final page – the budget. Maddy immediately started making excuses but Giles held up a hand to silence her. Everything was costed, right down to running the office, a modest amount to kit out a little corner of the converted stables, which she, Serena and Flora had claimed as their own. She had put the website build in at four thousand pounds, which suddenly seemed a lot but which she actually knew was a good price.

  He was scrolling down through the figures scribbling some notes she couldn’t see without straining her neck.

  ‘Serena tells me you’re a chartered surveyor,’ she said, to make conversation.

  ‘Yes, sort of,’ he said, still scribbling. ‘I’m the company secretary for a land management firm,’ he said. ‘It’s crashingly dull, or so Serena keeps telling me … Obviously I’m looking at this as a VC.’

  ‘A VC?’

  ‘I’m a venture capitalist,’ he clarified. ‘In other words, I’m one of those Dragon’s Den chappies who takes a punt on new businesses – invests in return for a share of the profits. That sort of thing …’

  ‘Blimey,’ she muttered. ‘Serena gave the impression you might just chuck in a few quid to help with start-up costs. Just because – you know – because you’re her husband.’

  ‘It helps,’ he said wryly, ‘but she’d be furious with me if she thought I was patronising her. Not that I’d dare. Look, Maddy,’ he went on, ‘these are bloody good ideas. You’re clearly a bright girl. Flora’s … erm, Flora’s a one-off, and I’m sure she’ll be an asset. I also hugely admire my wife and,’ he flushed, ‘I know how lost she feels now the boys are at school. She needs to work to be truly happy, and,’ he swallowed loudly, ‘I just want her to be happy.’

  Maddy was shocked to see his eyes fill with tears before he looked away, studying the watercolour over the fireplace with fierce intensity, although she was pretty sure he had seen it before. She was just debating what to do next when he gathered himself together with a loud harumph and turned his attention back to the budget.

  ‘This isn’t good,’ he said.

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Your figures are all wrong,’ he went on, grabbing the laptop from her and scrolling up and down the page.

  ‘Have I put some things in too high?’ she hazarded. ‘Let’s reduce the office costs. I’m sure we can do them for less …’

  Giles ignored her. ‘For a start,’ he said, ‘there’s no salary for you and Serena.’

  ‘No, we actually thought we could – you know – hold off, see how it goes …’

  ‘Nonsense,’ he said, his eyes fixed on the screen. ‘If I’m going to put my money in, I need to know you can give it the time and energy it needs.’

  Without asking, he created another line in the chart and added a figure she could happily live on if she was careful and rented somewhere cheap to live.

  ‘Also,’ he said, ‘your marketing budget’s underpowered. You mentioned doing a London trade show for the retail buyers a few minutes ago, but where is it in the budget?’

  ‘Ah,’ said Maddy, ‘we wanted to do something in year one but it costs such a lot we thought we’d probably generate some income and then do one of the big London events in year two …’

  ‘Nope,’ he said decisively. ‘You need to hit the ground running. Again, if I’m going to invest, I need to know there is going to be reasonable impetus from the off. What are the figures for a trade show?’

  Luckily she had just costed attendance at the biggest and best annual buyers’ event so she came straight back with a total figure that would cover it. Just about.

  Giles bunged it in and scrolled down to the bottom to total it up. The figure now displayed made Maddy gulp.

  ‘Would you really be prepared to finance us?’

  ‘I’ll do half,’ he said, snapping the laptop shut, ‘in return for twenty-five per cent of the business.’

  ‘I’ll have to get back to you,’ she said coolly, trying to sound confident. ‘The stake is acceptable but obviously we need to have a think about how we raise the remaining fifty per cent.’

  ‘Oh goodness,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to worry about that. There’s an enterprise fund being run by Brighton City Council offering match funding for projects just like yours. They’ll be falling over themselves to fund something like this, creating local jobs, boosting the economy, rural enterprise – heavens, it fulfils more funding criteria than you can shake a stick at.’

  ‘It does?’

  ‘It certainly does. You’ll have to fill out a monster of an application form, but you’ll manage. The guy in charge is a mate of mine.’

  Maddy’s head was spinning and, try as she might, she couldn’t stop a grin of delight spreading across her face.

  ‘So,’ said Giles, getting up. ‘If that’ll do you, I think we’d better get back to the others.’

  When they returned to the kitchen the atmosphere was solemn. Flora seemed to have disappeared. Keith had tactfully taken his laptop to the far end of the kitchen table where he was preoccupied – or pretending to be – running through and editing the photos he had taken earlier that day. Ben and Serena were head to head over their coffee; Serena with her hand on Ben’s arm, was speaking to him intently as Maddy and Giles came in. When she saw Maddy she flashed her a wobbly smile.

  ‘Alright?’ she said, letting go of Ben and giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder.

  Maddy gave her a thumbs up.

  ‘Great,’ said Serena, giving herself a little shake. ‘Now, enough of this,’ she added to Ben, wiping her eyes and nose with a corner of the striped apron she was still wearing. ‘It’s the last thing Andrew would have wanted.’

  ‘Ben’s been telling me all about his research,’ she explained to Giles, brightly.

  ‘Come here, old thing,’ he said, and gave her a cuddle, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head as he met Ben’s eye.

  Unable to work out what was going on, Maddy felt suddenly drained. She stifled a yawn.

  ‘Time to get you home,’ Ben said, pushing back his chair. ‘Serena, thank you, we’ll see you soon,’ he said, giving her a warm and extended hug.

  After peremptory goodbyes to the others, Maddy was bundled into the car, inserting her broken leg into the footwell with difficulty.

  Lulled by the drive, she was soon fighting sleep.

  ‘Who’s Andrew?’ she asked, in an attempt to wake up.

  ‘My brother.’

  ‘Didn’t know you had one.’

  ‘I did,’ he said. ‘I don’t now.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  She waited. Ben drove on, seemingly having forgotten she was there.

  ‘What happened?’ she said at last.

  For a moment she thought Ben hadn’t heard her.

  ‘He was in the army,’ he said, not looking at her. ‘Two tours of Afghanistan. Iraq. Northern Ireland. He went everywhere. Did everything. He was thirty-two when he died. The age I am now.’

  ‘Killed in combat?’

  ‘Might as well have been. It was the last Iraq tour that did for him. He came home a different person. Angry. Broken. He was signed off with depression, and then diagnosed with PTSD. He tried so hard to get better but he just couldn’t do it. After a couple of years he was medically discharged from the army. On the day his discharge papers came through, he …’ Ben swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘On the day he was discharged, he killed himself.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  By this time they were pulling up outside the Havenbury Arms. The bar was dark, the curtains drawn. Maddy looked at her watch in surprise. Midnight already.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘Tell me about him. I’ll make you a coffee.’

  ‘That old “come in for a coffee” line, eh?’ joked Ben, weakly.

  In minutes they were side by side on the saggy old sofa in Patrick’s sitting room.

  Pirate ignored them at first, cross at having been left alone, but soon he turned back around in his cage and treated them to his best hanging u
pside down on his perch trick, cocking his head to check they were watching.

  ‘He needs his blanket on,’ she said. ‘It’s past his bedtime.’

  ‘And yours.’

  ‘So, is Andrew the reason you’re researching PTSD?’

  ‘He is. He’s the reason I went into the army, why I studied psychology – everything really. His death blew my family apart. After losing Dad when I was young too—’

  ‘Really? I didn’t know …’

  ‘I was seven,’ he said. ‘Pretty grim. And then Andrew, when I was fifteen. Awful for my mum having lost them both, but losing Andrew was worse, she says. Parents who outlive their children are thrown into a kind of living hell … Not to say it wasn’t agonising for all of us. Serena too, as you saw.’

  ‘So she knew him?’ asked Maddy, sniffing away tears that had welled up at his story.

  ‘More than that. They were soulmates. She supported him through it all, but of course, it wasn’t enough in the end. Nothing was.’

  ‘Is that why you’re so close?’

  ‘Oh, we’d known each other for years. Serena, Giles and Andrew were all in the same group and I was the bratty younger brother. I think we would have been friends anyway, but – yeah – when you go through something like that …’

  ‘Poor Giles, too. I really like him.’

  ‘Talking of Giles, how did you get on?’

  ‘Oh, amazingly!’ said Maddy, wiping her eyes. ‘He’s just – basically – enabled the whole Bespoke Consortium. Or at least he has if we can get the other half of the funding. And he says he can help do that too.’

  He smiled at her enthusiasm. ‘So, you’re prepared to stay down here and make it happen?’

  She glanced at him but she didn’t meet his eye, instead focusing on Pirate, who was cracking pumpkin seeds in his beak whilst still hanging upside down. Every now and then he would steal a glance at her to make sure she was still watching.