by Debby Holt
She waited for what was probably less than a minute but seemed like a lifetime. Then he opened the door and stood aside to let her in. She smiled but he didn’t smile back. He wore black jeans and a black jersey. She wondered if his choice of colour was a subconscious statement.
‘Thank you for inviting me to lunch,’ she said.
‘Thank you for getting in touch with me.’ His tone was unnervingly formal. He closed the door and moved towards the fireplace.
‘I was coming up to Scotland to see Grandma. It seemed wrong not to contact you, especially now…’ She stumbled but she had to mention it for why else was she here? ‘…Especially now my mother and your father are no longer together.’
‘You must be pleased by that.’
‘Of course I am. I still hope she and Dad might get back together.’ She had forgotten the way in which his face could remain so resolutely unreadable. But his eyes, dark, wary, possibly hostile, never left her face. She attempted a smile. ‘I did think you might ring me once you heard. But you didn’t. I thought perhaps you’d transferred your affections to your local historian.’
‘Martha?’
‘Then I googled her and discovered she’s a sixty-five-year-old grandmother.’
‘She has your auburn hair,’ Jamie conceded. ‘In her case, I’m not sure it’s natural. She’s an extraordinary woman. You would like her.’
‘I hope I get the chance to meet her.’
‘I’m forgetting my manners,’ he said. ‘Let’s go to the kitchen. I have wine in the fridge.’
She followed him through. His politeness lowered her spirits. She sat at the table while he attended to their drinks. The kitchen was as neat as it had been the last time she was here.
He took a seat beside her and considered her gravely. ‘I’m confused,’ he said at last.
There was to be no small talk then. ‘I can’t say I blame you,’ she said.
‘Why would you expect me to ring you? You said you didn’t want to see me again.’
‘I said I felt I couldn’t see you again.’
‘I really can’t see the difference. I can’t force you to care about me. If you had cared, you’d have made a small effort to make it work. Our parents’ affair was a convenient excuse for you.’
His perception was impressive and also off-putting. ‘Jamie, I don’t blame you for giving up. I’m hard work, I know that. Most men would run a mile. I’m seeing a counsellor now, by the way, but… I don’t blame you for giving up.’
‘That’s very gracious of you.’ There was a slight glint in his eye. ‘At least… I’m not sure if it is gracious. Are you suggesting I shouldn’t give up?’
‘I’m not saying one thing or the other.’
‘Tess,’ he said, ‘I find it very difficult to know what you want me to do.’
‘I can see you’re a little angry and I sort of understand but…’ This was proving impossible. It was like wading through mud. ‘Can I just say that it’s very difficult sitting here trying to tell you how I feel when you look at me like I’m some crazy alien? It’s not easy to admit I’m in love with you. You can ask me to go or say you don’t want me…’
‘Wait a moment.’ Jamie frowned. ‘Did you say you were in love with me?’
‘Isn’t it obvious?’
‘Where you’re concerned, nothing is obvious.’
She looked at him steadily. ‘Well, I do. I love you. Now do you want me to go or stay?’
Jamie put his glass to one side. ‘I don’t want to be rude,’ he said, ‘but that is possibly the stupidest question you’ve ever asked.’
She let out a sigh of exquisite relief. ‘I thought you might have lost patience.’
‘You should have known better. I was attempting to conduct a strategic retreat.’
‘Was that what it was?’ She smiled. ‘It was very effective.’
They sat looking at each other. ‘Just so you know,’ he said, ‘if the doorbell rings I intend to ignore it.’
‘Good,’ she said gravely, ‘so will I.’
He looked at her again. Then, slowly, tentatively, he kissed her. It was longer than last time. Tess had the oddest feeling that Jamie’s house was holding its breath.
His eyes went down to her hands and he broke into one of his rare, sudden smiles. ‘Hey, Tess,’ he cried, ‘you weren’t clenching your fists!’
Felix and his mother sat opposite each other on a table by the window at Burt’s Hotel. Their fish and chips had arrived at last and Felix commented on the unusual number of guests in the restaurant.
‘It is busy,’ Maggie agreed. ‘Perhaps they’re all coming to the fair this afternoon.’
‘Perhaps they are. Do you hope to buy some Christmas presents there?’
‘I may do. We’ll have to see.’ She poured out a glass of water from the jug on the table. ‘Now, what were we talking about before the food arrived? We’ve covered Tess and the little dog you’ve been looking after and you gave me a detailed description of your journey up here.’
Felix nodded. ‘I thought you’d be interested to hear about the pub we found in Lancashire. The lunch was excellent.’
‘It sounds delightful. But I would like to change the subject now, just in case Tess comes back earlier than expected. I think I should tell you that Neil Lockhart has gone back to his wife.’
Felix put down his knife and fork. ‘Has he? That was quick. Freya only left him a few weeks ago.’
‘So you know that.’ Maggie took a sip of her wine. ‘Felix, I don’t want to pry…’
‘That’s what I love about you, Ma,’ Felix said. ‘Other mothers would be desperate to interfere. You understand that it’s not your place.’ He raised his glass. ‘I salute your dignity and… your reticence. It’s wholly admirable.’
Maggie gave him a withering stare. ‘I presume you are trying to annoy me? Of course I want to pry. I’m your mother. Are you taking Freya back?’
‘I’d take her back tomorrow. Unfortunately, she shows no wish to be taken.’
‘I don’t understand any of this. I thought you loved her.’
‘I did. I do.’
‘So why did you tell her to leave you?’
‘It’s very simple. I thought she’d been unfaithful. I was wrong.’
‘That doesn’t sound simple at all.’
‘Those are the facts. I gave her no chance to explain her side of things. I told her very brutally that I wanted to leave her. And then I found out she was blameless. Why would she want to come back to me?’
‘I wouldn’t say Freya is blameless… Let’s not forget Neil Lockhart.’
‘He’d never have happened if I hadn’t done what I did. The fault is all mine. I won’t have you condemn her.’
Maggie threw up her hands. ‘I don’t. I feel sorry for her. Felix, I’m your mother. I know you. You must be intolerable to live with. You never say what you mean. Look at you now here with me! I don’t believe for one moment you’ll accept defeat. You know you’d be miserable without her. You can tell me, you know. Stoicism is a very overrated virtue.’
Felix laughed. ‘Ma, you are such a hypocrite. Twelve years ago you had breast cancer and cancelled a visit without saying why. We only discovered the reason six months later. If I’m a stoic, I learnt from an expert.’ His phone rang and he picked it up at once. ‘It’s Tess,’ he murmured, his eyes stiff with anxiety.
Maggie watched him sit back and assume a calm, easy manner. ‘Hi, Tess, how’s it going? … Good… No, that’s fine… Tell him to call in. Tell him I’d like to say hello.’
He put the phone down and took a gulp of his wine. Maggie watched him bite his lip and saw his face contort in an effort to control himself. She cut a piece of her fish and ate it with great concentration. Finally, she said lightly, ‘Is Tess all right?’
He nodded. ‘She’s exceptionally all right. They’re going out to the castle later this afternoon. There’s some function going on and she wants to help. She won’t be in for supper. He’ll b
ring her back at ten. He’ll call and say hello before he goes home… She sounds happy. She sounds so very happy.’
They all waited up for them. Katherine and Robert sat playing backgammon. Maggie knitted. Sheila and Derek argued amiably about the referendum. Felix chatted to Linda. At a quarter past ten, they all heard the car pull up outside. Katherine went over to the window.
‘They’ll see you pulling the curtains back,’ Maggie protested. ‘What are they doing?’
‘They’re talking,’ Katherine said. She moved away from the window. ‘Now they’re coming in.’ Katherine returned hastily to her chair. ‘I think we should all try to look natural.’
Maggie raised her eyebrows but resumed her knitting. Katherine and Robert stared intently at the backgammon board. They heard voices in the hall and now Tess came into the sitting room with Jamie who, understandably, looked a little taken aback by the reception awaiting him.
Felix was the first to move. He sprang from his chair and strode over to Tess’s young man. ‘Good evening, Jamie,’ he said. ‘I’m Felix. It’s so very nice to meet you.’
On Tuesday afternoon, Anna sat in the impressive glass foyer of South Reading Hospital, flicking through the messages on her phone. William had been told she was here. He was working. He’d be with her as soon as he could. That was twenty minutes ago. All right, she thought. As long as it takes.
Another fifteen minutes went by and then there he was. She hadn’t seen him for three months and he looked pretty much the same except that there was no welcoming warmth in his eyes, and that hurt. ‘Anna,’ he said, ‘your hair.’
She smiled. ‘Hi, William.’
‘Is this because of the photo I sent you?’
‘I’d already done it. I must say Miss Diamond seems to like the new me.’
He sat down beside her. He seemed to be at a loss as to what to say. ‘So… How are you?’
‘I’m well. I spent last weekend with my mum. On Saturday we went to Bath and I met my grandma for the first time.’
‘Really? How did that go?’
‘I didn’t think I’d like her. She walked out on her family when Mum was a child. The two of them met up again a few weeks ago. This weekend, she was staying in Bath with her sister-in-law. She took Mum and me to the Pump Rooms for lunch. She greeted me by asking if I was the clever academic daughter or the one who was horrible to her daughter. I told her I was the horrible one and after that we got on well.’
Briefly, William’s face relaxed. ‘She sounds fun,’ he said. ‘Have you been horrible to your mother?’
‘Yes. It’s something I’m trying to change. It’s one of many things I’m trying to change.’
‘Look…’ William seemed to be at a loss as to how to reply. ‘Why are you here, Anna? I can’t stay long and…’
‘I wanted to see you. I wanted to tell you, to your face, that I know I let you down and I’m sorry. But I think – I really do think – you’re being unfair. Can you look me in the eye and swear you’ve never done something you wish you hadn’t? Can you sit there and promise you’ve never been ashamed of your behaviour?’
William sighed. ‘No,’ he said, ‘of course I can’t.’
‘So how come I get the cast-out-of Eden treatment? I miss you.’
‘I miss you too. But…’
‘You said you didn’t want to see me again. Ever. That’s quite harsh, William. I apologised. I transgressed. Am I not to be forgiven? You said you didn’t like me now. Is that true?’
‘Look,’ William said, ‘you don’t… The main reason I said that was to stop you calling me again.’
‘Why? If you really don’t like me, then I understand. But if you don’t, why did you take the trouble to send me that photo?’
He murmured, ‘I don’t know how to put this. I was upset when you rang that evening to cancel me but…’ He stopped and gave a half-smile. ‘The thing is, I wasn’t just upset. I was jealous. I was properly jealous and that made me see… When I joined St Peter’s, I enjoyed spending time with you. I enjoyed it too much. I liked you too much, which meant my love life was rubbish. I don’t want to be on my own for the rest of my life. I’m going on dates now. I am getting over you and…’
‘That’s the problem. William, look at me. I don’t want you to get over me.’
‘I’m sure you don’t but…’
‘William, are you being deliberately obtuse? Do you really want to make me spell it out?’
The left corner of his mouth lifted slightly. ‘I think you’re going to have to.’
‘Oh William!’ She squared her shoulders. ‘I like you. I like you a lot. I want to be with you. In the biblical sense. In every sense.’
‘Anna,’ William said, ‘I know what you’re like. I walk out of your life and suddenly you miss me. How do I know that if I walk back in, you won’t …?’
‘You don’t know. Neither do I. I do know I’ve never missed anyone like I miss you. When do you finish today?’
‘I’m off at six.’
‘I can be here at six. If you want me to. I can go and look at the high life of Reading for a couple of hours. Or I can go home and agree that I’ll never bother you again. It’s up to you.’
‘I don’t know what to say. It’s a lot to take in.’ William glanced at his watch and stood up. ‘I have to go.’ He glanced down at her doubtfully. ‘I suppose we could have a pizza together.’
‘Great.’ Anna nodded. ‘I’d like that. I’ll see you here at six.’ She sat and watched him walk back across the concourse. Her hands were trembling and she gripped them tightly. He was about to go through the swing doors when he turned and smiled at her. A moment later, he disappeared.
Anna relaxed her hands. He smiled, she thought, he smiled. She rose to her feet. It was time to go and explore Reading. Whatever it was like, she knew she would love it.
On Saturday afternoon, for the first time since her return to Darrowbridge, Freya sat down at her desk, able at last to concentrate on her November column. She had lit the wood-burning stove. Serge lay at her feet. All was calm. Tomorrow evening, Felix would come back and on Monday, her new life would begin.
She sat staring at the screen, waiting for inspiration to arrive. It didn’t. She opened her left-hand drawer in order to find her IDEAS FOLDER, a name that promised far more than it tended to deliver.
Her Anniversary folder sat at the top which was odd since it had lain at the bottom of the drawer for months now. She picked it up. ‘Anniversary Stuff’, it said, and then, underneath, in Felix’s writing, was the word, ‘Amended’.
She opened it up and took out the guest list. Felix had made various comments in the margin, alongside certain names: ‘Really? … Must we? … No!!!! … Oh God!’
When had he done this? Why had he done this? She was about to put the list back when she found a new sheet of paper. There was a heading: FELIX’S SPEECH – heavy editing required. At her feet, Serge began to snore. Freya began to read.
‘We are here to celebrate my huge good fortune in having Freya for my wife. The first time I met her was at a wedding. I can tell you nothing about the bride since I had eyes only for Freya. I was sitting in a church pew when this vision came up and asked if she could sit next to me. Imagine an ornithologist exploring some remote part of the country. Imagine his reaction when the rarest bird in the world flies up to him and lands on his wrist. Imagine that and you will understand how I felt when Freya asked if she could share my seat.
She was – and continues to be – the most beautiful woman I have ever encountered. As I grew to know her I found that her personality was as fascinating as her appearance. She was energetic, enthusiastic, funny and bright and endlessly curious about the world. Somehow, I persuaded her to marry me.
Three years later, we became parents to twin girls. Freya had read Anna Karenina and Tess of the d’Urbervilles while she was pregnant. She burned with indignation at their tragic ends. She wanted to call the children Anna and Tess in order to remind herself what
was important. She wanted them to grow up to be confident, clever and independent, to be answerable to no one but themselves. They’ve turned out pretty well. Inevitably, with a mother like Freya, they have beauty as well. I should warn any men foolish enough to try to hurt them that they will have Freya to deal with.
We lived in Wimbledon throughout the girls’ childhood and we were happy. Freya had given up modelling when the girls came along and she used her savings to start up a clothes shop which she ran with great success. As time went on her enthusiasm became a little muted. She seemed restless. In retrospect, I think she was bored with the shop and needed new mountains to climb. Her mood was infectious. At work, I’d been offered the chance to head a new office in Bristol. I decided to take up the challenge.
And now we come to my downfall. We had a gardener who was everything I wasn’t: young, strong and exceptionally good-looking. He adored Freya but then most people did. Once we’d decided to move, I told him we’d have to let him go. His response was unexpected. He told me he loved Freya and implied they were having an affair.
Now, you’re all sensible people and you’re presumably making two obvious suppositions: one, that I would of course assume there was something odd about the young man’s wish to give me such explosive information and, secondly, that I would naturally tell Freya about it. Let me try to explain why I didn’t show such natural common sense myself.
The young man seemed open and honest and genuinely apologetic. I wanted to talk to Freya about him. I refrained. When apparent new evidence came my way I was terrified. If I confronted her, she might admit she loved him? Suppose she left me? That was unthinkable. We were moving away. She’d forget him. It was too dangerous to rock the boat.
And so we came to Darrowbridge. The girls settled down. Freya found a new and lasting interest in genealogy. I tried to forget the gardener and some of the time I succeeded.
A few months ago, Freya took part in a balloon debate. If you ask her about it she will tell you it wasn’t her finest hour. She took on the role of Madame Bovary. At the beginning of her speech she proclaimed to the audience that she was an unfaithful wife. It was like a shotgun going off in my brain.