by Susan Lewis
Rachel moved to stand in front of her, peering curiously into her eyes. Her comical concern brought a smile to Alicia’s pale lips. This was something else that hadn’t changed over the years, thank God, their friendship, and the understanding of one another that often required no words.
Alicia looked around again, taking in the amateurish watercolours she’d painted years ago of the village high street and war memorial; of Glastonbury Tor; the Somerset Levels; Bath Abbey; there was even one of the station at Castle Cary. What on earth had induced her to paint that, she wondered now. And why had her mother kept it? All the paintings she’d produced before leaving home, though, were here somewhere. Monica used to change them around from time to time, but pride of place, over the mantel, had always gone to her favourite, the humpback bridge that crossed the river into Holly Copse. As Alicia looked at it a faraway smile curved her lips. She was drifting back to a time when she’d hardly ever put her paints away. She didn’t even own any now, unless there were some hidden in the attic. Her artistic efforts were focused on sculpture these days, witty or poignant pieces made of bronze and steel.
Coming to stand beside her, Rachel gazed at the painting too. It was twenty years or more since Alicia had last gone into the Copse, which was actually large enough to qualify as a wood. As young children it was where their father used to take them blackberrying in spring, or picnicking in summer, hunting for conkers in autumn, or collecting pine cones to decorate for Christmas. By night, in their vivid imaginations, it came alive with witches, fairies, hobgoblins, all kinds of terrifying monsters. It was the venue for school nature trails, and later, for teenage rites of passage. Many were the parties they’d attended there, while in the sixth form. Too much booze was regularly consumed, pot was smoked and both she and Rachel had experienced their first grown-up kisses in the nook below the tump known as Lovers’ Dip. A couple of their friends had even lost their virginities there, or so they claimed.
‘Do your children ever go there?’ Alicia asked as Rachel gave a dreamy sigh.
‘Less now than they used to,’ Rachel answered. ‘They’re too old to see it as an adventure any more, and too young for the raves.’
Alicia smiled. Since Rachel and David had waited to start a family their eldest, Una, was the same age as Darcie, and Todd had only recently turned nine. ‘So there are still parties?’ she said, moving on across the room.
‘From what I hear they’ve become one of the must-do events of the region. Apparently kids come from miles around these days. They’ve all got cars or motorbikes or some kind of transport; they even hightail it down from London by train, I’m told.’
With so many public and private schools within a twenty-mile radius of Holly Wood, there would never be a shortage of young people, Alicia was thinking, as she wandered into the dining area and pushed open the door to the kitchen. ‘Shall we have some tea?’ she suggested. ‘Or wine, if you don’t have to go back to work.’
Rachel grimaced. ‘Great idea, but I’m afraid I didn’t bring anything with me.’
‘No problem. I’ve come prepared. It’s all in the car.’
Rachel was suitably impressed. ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ she smiled. ‘Let’s go get the vino. I’ve taken the rest of the day …’ She broke off as the telephone in the hall started to ring. Her eyes met Alicia’s.
‘You answer,’ Alicia said. ‘If it’s Robert tell him…’ Tell him I’ll never speak to him again as long as he’s got that bitch living under his roof. ‘Tell him I’m not here.’
As Rachel started along the hall Alicia turned away. Her eyes were large and glassy and no longer focusing on her surroundings. They were eyes that wanted to forget what they’d seen, to erase the images that haunted them, but never could.
‘Craig! Have you seen the time?’ Alicia shouted. ‘Come on, or we’re all going to be late.’
‘On my way,’ he shouted back.
Alicia quickly returned to their smart, newly installed black granite and bleached-oak kitchen, where Darcie was perched on a stool at the centre island scoffing down Coco Pops while watching GMTV on the flatscreen, and the kettle was whistling on the Aga, desperate to be taken off. Obliging, Alicia scalded some fresh mint leaves in a cup for herself, then doused a breakfast tea bag for Craig, while whisking freshly crisped slices of granary from the toaster, and swinging round to take some jam from the fridge.
It wasn’t often they overslept, but this morning they had and now it was touch and go whether they’d get the children to school on time.
‘What time’s Daddy due in court, do you know?’ Alicia asked Darcie.
Slurping on a generous spoonful of her favourite cereal, Darcie shook her head. Her wide, chocolate-brown eyes remained glued to the screen. Apparently whatever Andrew Castle had to say this morning was even more fascinating than the latest copy of heat that lay open, but discarded, next to her bowl. Knowing Craig wouldn’t be impressed by the magazine, Alicia grabbed it and stuffed it into her capacious handbag. Rows were something they didn’t need this morning.
‘Hey!’ Darcie protested. ‘That’s mine.’
‘I’ll give it back to you this evening,’ Alicia told her, ‘but you know what Dad thinks of it.’
‘He’s sooo old-fashioned,’ Darcie grumbled.
‘Go and put your hair up,’ Alicia said.
‘Can you do it? I brought the brush down.’
‘There should be a please in there somewhere,’ Alicia informed her, starting to shake out Darcie’s silky blonde spirals, so like her own.
‘A French plait, please,’ Darcie said, passing her the brush. ‘Do you have drama class after school today?’
‘No, it’s been cancelled, but Mrs Jay is going to give us a dance lesson in its place, so I’ll still be finishing at five. Are you coming to pick me up?’
‘No, Verity’s mother is doing the afternoon runs this week. Which reminds me, you’d better call Verity and tell her we’re running late.’
As Darcie went to unplug her mobile, Alicia stayed with her, still braiding her hair. At last Craig and Nathan were on their way down, their footsteps thundering on the stairs, their voices overlapping one another’s as they kept up some kind of banter. By the time they reached the kitchen Craig was saying, ‘… so it was a no go because she didn’t have enough currants in her cake.’
Nat was grinning. ‘What does that mean?’ he asked.
‘That she wasn’t fruity enough,’ Craig answered, and Nat burst out laughing.
‘Oliver said that?’ he cried, referring to Craig’s partner in chambers, who was better known for his stuffiness than any kind of risqué humour.
‘I promise you, it’s what he said,’ Craig answered, laughing too, as he scooped the tea bag out of his cup. With his thick, jet-black hair, intense dark eyes and finely chiselled features, he was a strikingly handsome man whose height, at six feet two, could, at times, make him appear even more intimidating than the air of the highly successful QC that he was. This morning, in his dark Armani suit, with a crisp white shirt and a slate grey tie hanging loosely round the collar, he looked as rakish as a playboy who’d been on the tiles all night, since he’d clearly not yet had time to shave.
‘That is such a brilliant line,’ Nat, a virtual carbon copy of his father, apart from the eyes, was saying, as he began spooning down the Weetabix his mother had already prepared. ‘I’ve got to remember that. Not enough currants in her cake.’
‘You’re so sexist, you two,’ Darcie informed them, as Alicia finished securing the plait. ‘Is it still raining? If it is, we won’t have games.’
‘You’ll need to take the bag anyway,’ Alicia told her.
‘Where is it?’
‘In the hall, ready to go.’
‘Great. Dad, you haven’t forgotten that you’re giving a talk to Upper Sixth tomorrow, have you?’ she wanted to know.
‘Of course not,’ he assured her, taking his mobile from the charger. ‘It’s in my diary.’
‘Only I don’t want you embarrassing me by forgetting, or suddenly cancelling because some big case has come up.’
‘I won’t let you down,’ he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. ‘Will you be there?’
‘Duh, I’m twelve, still in year eight,’ she reminded him, ‘but everyone will know you’re my dad, so don’t make life difficult for me by turning into a no-show. And don’t tell too many jokes either, OK, because, I’m sorry, Dad, but you’re soooo not funny.’
Alicia gave a splutter of laughter at Craig’s comically hurt expression and after removing the cup from his hand, she replaced it with his briefcase, saying, ‘You have to go, or Nat will be late. Shave in the car. What time are you due in court?’
Craig glanced at his watch. ‘Just over an hour,’ he grimaced. ‘Come on son, let’s move it.’
‘Take your coats,’ Alicia called after them, ‘it’s freezing out there this morning. And watch out for ice on the roads.’
‘Hang on, Dad,’ Nat said, starting up the stairs, ‘I have to get my laptop.’
Coming back to press a kiss to Alicia’s lips, Craig said, ‘I’ll probably be late again tonight, so don’t wait up.’
‘Again?’ she groaned. ‘It was gone one when you came to bed.’
‘It should be earlier than that tonight,’ he assured her. ‘I’ll call and let you know.’
As he made to turn away she pulled him back and looked directly up into his eyes. She didn’t have to tell him what was bothering her, he’d know without her having to voice her suspicions.
‘I swear it’s not what you think,’ he said softly, ‘and you have to stop doing this. It’s over, and I don’t want to have to keep telling you.’
‘Do I look like a fool?’ she murmured.
‘Alicia, stop,’ he growled. ‘We don’t have time for this now, and you know what a difficult case I’m on …’
‘Fine, I’m sorry. It’s just … I can’t make myself …’
‘I know, but you’re wrong,’ and sensing Darcie’s eyes on them he pressed another kiss to Alicia’s lips, gave his daughter a wink and disappeared along the hall.
‘Nat,’ he shouted, as he grabbed his overcoat. ‘I’m parked right outside, so get a move on.’
‘Right there,’ Nat shouted back. ‘Can I drive?’
‘In your dreams.’
‘You let me last week.’
Craig had already gone, closing the front door behind him to keep in the warmth, the sound of his footsteps on the short tiled front path coming to an abrupt halt as he reached the S class Mercedes.
He was right, Alicia was thinking, as she started packing Darcie’s school bag. She had to make herself get over it. He wasn’t the only married man in the world who’d ever had an affair – so many did and marriages survived. Theirs could too – no, it already was – but if she carried on like this, never trusting him, always questioning where he was and who he was with, she was going to make herself impossible to live with, and then she really would lose him.
The mere thought of that dug such a deep well of dread into her heart that she could feel herself starting to fall, down and down to a place where she could see no light and might never be found. She’d change, she told herself firmly. Starting today. She wasn’t going to check his mobile phone any more, or his emails, and she’d never mention the other woman again. It was their nineteenth wedding anniversary on Saturday, so she’d make sure the children were elsewhere and prepare a candlelit supper, just the two of them, the way she used to before … She’d put candles around the bathroom too, and in the bedroom. He loved romance, they both did, and they’d shared so little of it lately.
‘Are you going to the studio today?’ Darcie asked, putting her bowl in the sink.
‘If I get time,’ Alicia answered, scooping her purse and mobile phone into her bag. ‘I might get a new commission, did I tell you? Blast, I forgot to tell Dad. Nat, are these your keys?’ she shouted, as Nat came bounding down the stairs.
‘Yeah, I think so,’ he answered, and dashing along the hall, his laptop and school bag both crushed under one arm, he gave her a loud kiss on the cheek, grabbed the keys, and after dropping another kiss on Darcie’s forehead he said, ‘See you later. Don’t forget Summer’s coming back with me tonight.’
‘I wish he meant the season and not his girlfriend,’ Darcie muttered. ‘I hate it when it’s so cold out.’
‘Come on,’ Alicia said, ‘we have to get a move on. Did you call Verity?’
‘I sent a text.’
‘Mum, did you put those empty CDs in my bag?’ Nat shouted from the door.
‘Yes.’
‘OK. Thanks. I’m gone.’ He tugged open the door and Alicia had just picked up the remote to turn off the TV when she heard him shout. The tone in the single word ‘Dad!’ turned her blood cold. Then suddenly she was running, Darcie hard on her heels. By the time she tore open the door Nat was at the car, stooping over his father who was slumped half in and half out of the driver’s seat.
‘Craig,’ Alicia gasped, and dashing along the path she threw herself down with them. ‘What is it? What’s happened?’ she cried, shaking so hard it was unhinging her mind.
‘I don’t know,’ Nat answered. ‘Dad,’ he said urgently, shaking Craig by the arm. Craig’s body was lifeless, his face was grey, his mouth had turned a purplish blue. ‘What’s happened to him?’ Nat said hoarsely as Alicia, barely knowing what she was doing, laid a cheek on his chest.
‘Call an ambulance,’ she croaked.
Ashen-faced, Nat fumbled for his mobile.
‘Mum!’ Darcie wailed, her hands bunched to her mouth.
‘Craig. Oh God, please Craig,’ Alicia cried, starting to bang her hands on his chest.
‘No, Mum, no!’ Darcie shrieked.
‘Ambulance please,’ Nat said into his phone.
‘Go and see if Dr Cramer’s at home,’ Alicia shouted at Darcie.
Darcie took off along the street and swung in through the gate four doors down.
Nat was staring in horror at his father as he told an operator their address. At the end of the square traffic roared and swished along the King’s Road. A siren, too soon to be coming for them, wailed and hooted like a fairground horn. Alicia grabbed Craig’s lapels and shook him, as though her anger and panic might inject some life back into him. His head lolled to one side, his eyes were half open, as though peering at her in a tired, playful sort of way.
‘You’re going to be late,’ she raged through a sob.
‘He’s coming,’ Darcie said, racing back to them.
Minutes later Dr Cramer dropped down next to Alicia, his knees in the same puddle. She cleared the way, allowing him to get to Craig, but she knew, even before he turned to shake his head, that it was already too late.
She clasped a hand to her mouth as an hysterical sob tore from her heart. ‘Craig!’ she cried desperately. ‘Craig, no!’ and throwing herself on to him she clung to him tightly, and she was still lying with him, sobbing his name, when the ambulance crew came and gently pulled her away.
Chapter Two
Rachel was searching for a corkscrew and glasses as Alicia unloaded the shopping she’d brought in from the car. The fridge was switched on now, as were the other appliances, though she hadn’t yet checked to see if they were all working.
The kitchen was large and wonderfully homey, with a nearly new range in an arched niche in one wall where copper pots and pans hung from steel hooks, and a collection of miniature teapots adorned a thick wooden mantel. Shiny beechwood surfaces over white lattice-front cupboards was a countrified style that was so typical of her mother, with a big square butler’s sink in front of a deep bay window where Monica used to grow an assortment of herbs. There was an old-fashioned dresser too, where the best Royal Doulton was displayed, and double French doors led on to the back patio and garden. The table at the centre of the room was made from old pine, while the six spindleback chairs were an odd mix of beech and oak.
&n
bsp; ‘Shall we go outside?’ Rachel said, filling two glasses with a very pale Pinot Grigio.
‘Why not?’ Alicia responded. ‘I’ll find some nibbles to take out, and there might be a parasol in the shed.’ She’d taken her cap off now and shaken out her hair. The fluffiness of it made her seem younger, more vulnerable somehow.
The phone call, fifteen minutes ago, had been from Mimi, the florist, who was also Rachel’s aunt. She’d wanted to pass on her condolences and let Alicia know that if there was anything she needed she only had to pick up the phone.
‘Pete’s happy to come and help in any way he can,’ Mimi had reminded Rachel, referring to her wry-humoured and long-suffering husband, whose services were regularly and randomly offered for anything Mimi could find for him to do. She’d even once put his name forward to deliver the sermon when Canon Jeffries had been laid low with flu, blithely ignoring the fact that Pete was neither ordained, nor a good public speaker, nor even a particularly devout Christian.
So the first breathless moment of dread was over. It hadn’t been Robert on the phone, for which Alicia could only feel thankful, since she really didn’t feel up to tackling that particular hurdle just yet. In her worst moments she wondered if she had the energy to face anything at all, for losing her husband and her mother in such a short space of time had torn her apart at the seams. Nothing ever felt right now, she didn’t seem to fit inside her own skin, or even to be the person thinking her thoughts. Sometimes it was as though the entire world was slipping beyond her reach and she was only hanging on by the merest thread. One enormous gasp and she might find her footing again, or maybe the weight of the air would be too much and she’d plunge helplessly into the void.