‘What for?’
‘Zac mentioned about your mum dying,’ he said hesitantly.
‘It’s OK,’ Anna assured him. ‘What about your dad?’
‘They don’t live together any more,’ he said shortly. ‘Anyway, let’s just concentrate on us, right?’
‘Us?’ If he was thinking of two-timing her with this Ruth girl he had another thing coming.
‘Yes.’ Felix leaned towards her, cupping her face in his hands.
Part of Anna’s brain was insisting that she push him away, insisting that she demanded to know the truth about Ruth. But the kiss that followed made the construction of even the simplest sentence a total impossibility.
They drove into Fleckford to see what was on at the cinema, and Anna couldn’t resist glancing in the shop windows, revelling in the reflection of herself holding hands with this tall, muscular guy, beside whom she looked almost petite and dainty. Suddenly, the disastrous hair colour with its unfortunate streaks seemed original and edgy and she marvelled at the way in which she could be herself with Felix, feeling absolutely no need to say anything clever or witty. But the best thing of all was that with him, she felt bubbly and vivacious and more like the other girls her age than she had ever felt before.
There was just that one thing lurking at the back of her mind. It was when they had abandoned all idea of a movie – she hated horror films and he couldn’t stand the thought of another vampire movie – and were walking up Chinnor Hill to the Ridgeway, a few flakes of snow falling from a leaden sky, that she could stand it no longer.
‘Who’s Ruth?’ She hadn’t meant it to come out quite as abruptly.
‘Ruth? She’s my aunt – my dad’s sister – and she’s over from Barbados for a flying visit.’
‘Your aunt? I thought . . .’ She checked herself quickly.
‘You didn’t think it was a girl?’ he asked, mischievously.
Anna said nothing.
‘And if it had been, would you have minded?’
‘No, of course not . . . Yes, a bit,’ Anna replied, avoiding his gaze.
‘I wouldn’t have asked you out if I’d been seeing someone else,’ he said. ‘You’re not with anyone, are you?’
Anna shook her head.
‘Great.’ He eyed her anxiously. ‘I guess you think I’m a bit of a saddo, wanting to spend time with a slightly eccentric sixty-three-year-old, when I could have seen you earlier, but she’s hardly ever in England and . . .’
‘It’s OK, you don’t have to explain,’ Anna interrupted, not caring about the details now she knew who Ruth was.
‘I want to,’ Felix assured her earnestly. ‘See, she’s always been there for me. Always treated me like an equal. Does that make any sense?’
‘I know what you mean,’ Anna nodded. ‘Bit like my godmother, I guess; since Mummy died, she’s the one person I can really be up front and myself with. No pretence, no worrying about saying the right thing . . .’
‘Exactly!’ Felix replied, tightening his grip on her hand. ‘Roo never goes mental or tells me how to live my life. Which is more than I can say for some people.’
‘And your parents do?’ Anna ventured, recalling in minute detail the rows she’d had with her father when she announced that she wanted to leave Swancote Hall and study music and politics at Fleckford College and the way Marina had fought her corner.
‘My mother certainly does,’ he sighed. ‘When I told Roo this morning about trying again for the Marines, she was so over the moon about it, really behind me. Whereas my mother . . .’ He fell silent and shook his head.
‘Maybe your mum’s just scared for you,’ Anna suggested. ‘You know, ending up in the middle of a war zone.’
‘I don’t think she’s scared exactly,’ he replied. ‘See, she’s an out and out pacifist – or at least that’s what she calls herself. Exhibitionist more like . . .’
‘How do you mean?’
‘For years, every protest march going – she’d be on it. Not just the war in Iraq or petitions to Downing Street – oh no! Want someone to tie themselves to a tree or lie down in front of a bulldozer? Ask my mother. Don’t get me wrong – in some ways, I guess it’s good that she stands up for what she believes in. She has every right to do that – it’s just the way she tries to convert everyone else to her way of thinking that gets to me.’ He paused for a moment, scanning the view. ‘You know what? She used to drag me along on marches with a placard strapped to my buggy when I was too young to know what was happening. I think she only did it to attract the press.’
Underneath the strident anger in his voice, she could detect a note of real hurt.
‘Maybe it wasn’t that,’ he continued. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I was just in the way.’
‘No, I’m sure . . .’
‘See, I’m the afterthought, the mistake, the kid that should never have happened. My brother and sister were both teenagers when I came along. By the time I was at primary school, Oscar and Skye were at uni and off her hands. I was a nuisance. An obstacle in the Rise and Rise of Cassandra Wentworth.’
‘Cassandra Wentworth? You mean, she’s your mother? But she’s . . .’ She had been about to say ‘she’s white’ and bit her tongue just in time.
‘See? Even you’ve heard of her.’ Felix paused and leaned against the trunk of an oak tree. ‘So what was it? The time she threw all those knickers out of that department store window because they weren’t Fair Trade cotton? Or maybe when she stormed in on News at Ten, supporting animal rights protestors?’
‘Actually,’ Anna admitted, ‘I only know about her because of my dad. He wanted her on the programme after the knicker thing but she refused. She said . . .’
‘I am too busy walking the walk to sit around talking the talk,’ Felix mimicked.
‘Yes,’ Anna laughed. ‘Actually, I thought that was a pretty clever line.’
‘It’s one of her pet phrases,’ Felix replied. ‘She’s using it as her campaign slogan.’
‘So what’s she campaigning about this time?’ Anna asked.
‘She’s into politics now – wants to be an MP,’ he said. ‘She’s hoping to stand as an Independent candidate at the Muckleborough and Bythorn by-election. Championing the cause of those with no voice – that’s her other catchphrase. As if!’
‘But that’s wonderful,’ Anna exclaimed. ‘Rooting for the underdog and all that – sorry, don’t get me going. I adore politics. I’m doing it for A-level.’
‘Really?’ Felix stared at her in disbelief.
‘Mmm. I’ll need it for the future. Hey, just think – if your mum gets elected, she’ll get the chance to do some real good.’
‘Oh sure,’ he replied cynically. ‘She’s more about saying one thing and living another.’
Anna was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Her own father could be a pain in the neck sometimes, but she couldn’t imagine talking to a comparative stranger about him in that kind of way.
‘You’re lucky to have your mum around,’ she said softly.
He put an arm round her shoulder. ‘I know, I know, and I’m sorry – I guess I’m just wound up at the moment because of what’s happened, but you’re right. She’s doing her thing, and I’m going to do mine, no matter what she says. Like Roo’s always telling me, you only have one go at life.’
He smiled ruefully. ‘You’re not really serious? About wanting to be a politician?
Anna shook her head and laughed. ‘No, not a politican. I want to be a political correspondent. I’ll do a degree in politics, and then maybe a Masters, get an internship . . .’
Felix laughed. ‘So you’ve got your life mapped out then?’
‘No more than you have,’ she said. ‘I guess when you want something enough you just have to do whatever it takes to get it.’
‘You’re right,’ he replied. ‘See, I knew we had loads in common.’
She glowed under his affectionate gaze. Little did she know that afternoon how her own words would come back to hau
nt her.
They had been sitting in Anna’s car, saying a lengthy and somewhat hands-on farewell, when Felix’s mobile rang.
‘Hello? Roo – hi!’
Anna made to get out of the car and give him space, but he gestured to her to stay put.
‘What’s that? Tomorrow evening? Oh. No, sorry. I’m supposed to be going out with some mates. Oh. Really? You think so? Hang on then.’
He covered the phone with his hand and turned to Anna.
‘You’re going to hate me,’ he began, biting his lip, ‘but Ruth’s flying back to Barbados the day after tomorrow and there’s this stuff she’s been trying to sort out for me and she wants to meet up – of course, I’ll say no because . . .’
‘No, don’t!’ Anna protested. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. We can go out any time.’
The relief on his face told her she had said the right thing. ‘You’re sure? I wouldn’t do this, only she and Joseph – that’s her husband – they’re flying off to do this research project in Patagonia in two weeks.’
‘Go! It’s fine, honestly. Just tell her!’
When he’d rung off, he turned to face her. ‘You’re amazing,’ he said. ‘Most girls would have sulked for England. Thanks, Anna – and I’ll make it up to you. I promise.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ she teased.
‘In fact,’ he said, pulling her towards him, ‘I could start doing that right now.’
CHAPTER 5
‘Her regrets . . . clouded every enjoyment of youth.’
( Jane Austen, Persuasion)
ON THE HOTTEST DAY OF SUMMER SO FAR, THE ELIOTS moved out of Hampton House. The Crofts had been happy to pay the exorbitant rental that Walter was demanding on the proviso that they could move in speedily and be guaranteed at least a three-year tenure. Since Marina, ever the diplomat, had arranged for the Dalrymples to invite Walter to take part in a regatta at Eastbourne just days after his arrival at Sovereign Harbour, he made rather less fuss about it than might otherwise have been the case.
The Sovereign Harbour penthouse was very stylish and extremely spacious and, he was forced to admit, tastefully furnished; having agreed to leave the bulk of his own furniture at Hampton House rather than pay for it to go into storage, he was relieved that he wasn’t going to be living, as he put it, ‘with a lot of Ikea self-assembly stuff’. What’s more, the apartment block stood on the prestigious Martello Quay, which, he was pleased to read in Sussex Life, was quite the most elegant and well-positioned part of the development, in which several well-known theatrical personalities have second homes.
As for his objections to Anna’s decision to move in with Marina, they were non-existent; she had told him on the day they all went to view the new apartment, hoping that any ensuing argument might be softened by his desire not to show himself up in front of the new neighbours. In the event, he simply expressed relief that she would be nearby should ‘darling Mallory’ need her, and then expressed even more relief when Marina confirmed that she would take care of Anna’s upkeep for as long as she was at Magpie Cottage.
‘And,’ he had said with ill-concealed glee, ‘the room you would have had can be used as a guest room. I plan to entertain,’ he added grandly.
They all knew precisely who, in particular, he was planning to entertain – and she wouldn’t be using the guest room. Indeed, the fact that his agent, Araminta Clay, lived in Sussex had made the move to the coast a lot smoother than it might have been. Araminta had been his agent ever since the launch of his first chat show, and she had stuck by him ever since. She adored Walter and he adored being idolised. Neither Anna nor Mallory could stand the woman, but Gaby had always been cloyingly nice to her, because Araminta’s daughter, Honeysuckle, was a successful model with one of the top London agencies and had promised to introduce Gaby to a couple of high-profile photographers.
When Araminta heard that Walter would actually be living just a half-hour drive away from her home in Lewes, she could hardly contain her excitement and had already promised him use of her season ticket to the opera at Glyndebourne, her beach hut on the Hove esplanade, and a few other things not verbalised but brazenly hinted at. Added to that, there were murmurs of a slot on Coast TV and even an autobiography (‘Darling, it would sell like hot cakes, you’re such a gem’). By the time the removal van drew up outside Hampton House, Walter had convinced himself that the whole idea of downsizing had been his own brilliant solution in the first place.
Anna was the last to leave the family home on the day of the move. Having spent the whole morning ferrying Mallory and a vast number of her possessions to Uppercross Farm, and stepping in every time her father’s language to the removal men crossed the mark of polite behaviour, she hadn’t had time to engage with her own feelings. Now, as the van disappeared down the drive, followed by Gaby in her bright-red MG, the realisation that this was it hit her in the middle of her chest like a bullet from a gun. She was due to set off for Marina’s, but since she was too strung up to concentrate on driving, she decided to take one last look at the house and garden before she went.
As she was idly swinging on the old rope swing that still hung from one of the gnarled apple trees and thinking about her mum, she heard the crunch of tyres on the gravel followed by the slamming of a car door. Assuming that her sister had forgotten something, she ran across the lawn and round the side of the house.
And stopped dead in her tracks.
It wasn’t Gaby.
It was Ruth Croft. She had a mobile phone clamped to her ear and, from the horrified expression on her face, it was clear that whatever she was hearing was not good news.
For a second, Anna considered disappearing into the bushes that flanked the garden but, before she could move more than a couple of paces, she heard something that made her blood run cold and rooted her to the spot.
‘A booby trap? Oh my God!’
In that instant, Anna knew what it was to feel sick with fear. It was Felix – it had to be. He’d been killed.
‘He did what? How badly hurt?’ Ruth’s next words flooded Anna with relief for a brief instant, until an image of Felix lying mangled and bleeding at the roadside caused her to gag. Clamping her hand to her mouth, she edged nearer the driveway.
‘He did? Speak up please, I can’t hear . . . when?’ Ruth had dropped her voice and Anna realised she was holding her breath as she strained to hear what she was saying. ‘Is it . . .? Oh thank God.’
The siren from a passing police car blotted out any chance of catching the rest of her words and, by the time Anna crossed the drive to where her car was parked, she had rung off.
‘Mrs Croft?’
Ruth spun round at the sound of Anna’s voice.
‘Oh my goodness, dear, you made me jump!’ she cried, clearly startled. ‘I’d thought you’d all left – your father said it would be OK.’
‘The others have gone,’ Anna assured her, alarmed to see a tear trickling down Ruth’s face. ‘I was just leaving.’ She gestured to where her Smart car, still bearing the “P” plates from her newly passed driving test, was parked.
‘Oh, that’s all right then – Joseph’s on his way following the removal men. I came ahead to open up and then the phone rang and . . .’
Anna could bear it no longer. ‘Was it about Fe— your nephew?’ she asked, hardly daring to breathe. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing – is he OK?’
‘Thanks be to God, yes – it’s a miracle. He’s making light of it all but . . .’
‘You spoke to him?’ Anna couldn’t restrain the eagerness in her voice.
Ruth nodded. ‘Only for a moment or two, the connection was terrible. Let me tell you, when I took the call and a voice said it was Felix’s commanding officer – well, you can imagine what I thought, and the relief when he put Felix on the line.’
Her voice cracked and Anna could see that her hands were shaking. ‘I don’t know all the details – apparently they were on patrol and a grenade went off. He hurled himself on to it to
save the others.’
‘Oh God.’ Anna felt sick just thinking about it.
‘And you know what?’ Ruth said with a faint smile. ‘His kitbag took most of the impact. He’s deaf in one ear – they say that’s temporary though; and he’s got a torn ligament, lots of cuts and bruises, and a couple of broken fingers, but that’s it.’
Her voice broke again, and she looked away, clearly embarrassed at her show of emotion. ‘His guardian angel must have been working overtime,’ she said when she had composed herself. ‘According to the officer, the first thing he asked when the medics got to him was whether Zac was OK.’
‘Zac?’ The name stuck in Anna’s throat. ‘Zac Harville?’
‘Yes, that’s the one – they’ve been friends for years, really close they are. I met him once or twice when I was over in England. Lovely, gentle guy. Why, do you know him?’
‘My sister went out with him for a bit,’ she murmured. ‘Is he OK?’
‘I guess he must be,’ said Ruth. ‘All the officer said was that thanks to Felix’s quick thinking, no one was seriously hurt.’
Despite dreading the fact that she would be recognised, Anna could see that Ruth was trembling and she felt compelled to help. ‘Can I get you a glass of water or a coffee or something?’ she ventured. ‘We left a few supplies and there’s some milk in the fridge.’
‘That’s sweet of you,’ Ruth said. ‘But no – I’m all right. Joseph will be here in a bit and I must try to get in touch with Felix’s mother. She’s on holiday – scuba-diving in Papua New Guinea, if you please – and they couldn’t reach her.’ She sighed. ‘Between you and me, I don’t get on with her. Frankly, I’ll never know why my brother married her in the first place, and that’s not because I’m racist or against mixed marriages or anything like that. Oh listen to me, babbling on. I do that when I’m upset, it drives Joseph mad.’ She smiled wanly at Anna. ‘She’s not the maternal type, and Felix was always a daddy’s boy as a kid. Then his father got ill and that really cut him up. He’s always been a bit of a loner —’
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