Seven Days in Summer

by Marcia Willett

  ‘God, this is great,’ Matt is saying with undisguised relief. ‘Why didn’t you say you were coming?’

  And Andy is grinning back at him. ‘Hoping to catch you out in some misdemeanour,’ he says humorously, ‘and it looks like I almost have!’

  He gives a little nod towards Catriona, who feels at a disadvantage, completely taken aback by Matt’s reaction, and simply makes a little face indicating an amused indifference at their behaviour. They start to talk, completely excluding her, and she feels all the familiar rage at the sight of their comradeship. She pours her tea, willing herself to remain cool, and presently Andy sits down again and Matt goes to get him some coffee.

  ‘So what were you looking at so intently when I came in?’ asks Andy lightly. ‘Are you thinking of buying a painting?’

  She glances at the set of paintings, her mind elsewhere.

  ‘The subject is interesting,’ she says briefly, and Andy stands up to take a closer look at them.

  ‘Market traders,’ he says. ‘Rather fun. That tall boy pinching money from the chap’s pocket. The two boys have set the trader up.’

  ‘I thought the blond boy looked a bit like Matt,’ she says, and then quickly turns to look at the painting again, suddenly alert, as Andy’s words ‘market traders’ sink in. ‘Insider trading,’ she says, under her breath. ‘Maurice Desmoulins.’

  Andy sits down again, looking at her curiously. ‘You know him?’

  She shakes her head. ‘But his name rings a bell. A kind of connection somewhere.’

  ‘Desmoulins?’ says Andy. ‘The French Revolution, wasn’t it? He was the Lanterne Attorney, if my memory is correct. But his name was Camille. It always interested me, that period of history. Robespierre. Danton. Desmoulins. They were the great architects of the Terror, weren’t they?’

  It sounds as if he is trying to distract her but she stares at him, not speaking. He has just made the connection for her, though there is still a puzzle.

  ‘So?’ he asks lightly. ‘Is this going anywhere?’

  ‘I’m thinking of an old boss I used to have at an investment bank I worked for. He’s retired now. Maurice Leclos. He was always known as the Terror. He had quite a reputation.’

  Andy has turned away, as if he has lost interest, but she remains alert, puzzling through this little idea that has aroused her curiosity. Matt comes out with Andy’s coffee and sits down with them.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ he says cheerfully. ‘This week is being utter hell. I really don’t see how I can get away and I’m wondering, Andy, since you’re just down the coast from Rock, if you could help Catriona get those last bits to the tip?’

  Catriona is jolted back to the present. Her humiliation is now complete: Andy casually detailed off to help her whilst Matt strolls away, secure and inviolable. She swallows down her rage, trying to think of a suitable response.

  ‘Of course,’ Andy is saying. ‘But not tomorrow. I’ve got a date tomorrow. Friday any good, Cat?’

  She tries one last throw of the dice, following an instinct. ‘Might be OK,’ she says indifferently. ‘We were talking about these paintings, Matt. Are they yours? Where did you buy them?’

  ‘Oh, they belong to my old pa,’ he says casually. ‘He brought them down from his gallery in Bristol. Couldn’t sell them so we decided to hang them here.’

  ‘They belong to Baz?’ she repeats. ‘Really? Did Baz always run an art gallery?’

  ‘No,’ says Matt. ‘We moved from London when I was three. He was an investment manager. It was a long time ago but he still likes to play with his stocks and shares.’

  Catriona almost shivers with excitement. ‘Really? An investment manager?’ She begins to smile. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Or,’ Andy interrupts, ‘we could do it this afternoon, Cat. We could just make it back in time for the tip still to be open if you want to?’

  But she shakes her head, finishes her tea. ‘No, actually, there’s a few things I need to do. Check up on. I’ll see you later,’ and she gathers her belongings, gets up and walks out, raising a casual hand.

  ‘She didn’t pay for her tea,’ remarks Matt, making a joke of it, slightly uneasy now that they are alone.

  But Andy is preoccupied. He, too, has made a connection and whilst Matt gets up to deal with a customer, Andy remembers Baz’s text messages from Maurice.

  ‘How about another canter for old times’ sake, mon vieux?’

  ‘En avant, mon vieux. I’m all set to do another little daub. Brick Lane this time?’

  Andy thinks about Cat and feels cold inside. He knows that she has guessed something, made some connection, and that it is very important that he warns Baz. Cat’s ability to slash and burn is well known – it has brought her success in her work but made her enemies, too – and Andy knows that her failure with Matt will be all that is needed to turn her thoughts towards some kind of revenge. When she was asking Matt about the paintings it reminded him of how she cross-questioned him about Tiggy and the little Merlin: like a cat with a mouse.

  When Matt comes back, Andy is obliged to wrench his mind from these preoccupations and concentrate on his brother-in-law. Matt is looking faintly sheepish, embarrassed.

  ‘I know it all sounds a bit crazy,’ he’s saying. ‘Me going down to help her at her cottage, but it was just so difficult to say no. She was doing that teary, “I’m really missing my mum” thing and, to be honest, it didn’t seem so big a deal.’

  ‘And?’ asks Andy, when Matt flounders to a halt.

  ‘Well, then it got a bit out of hand. She bought me a really good lunch and I kind of felt … well …’

  ‘Attracted?’ suggests Andy.

  Matt looks shocked but he’s not totally convincing. ‘Hell, no,’ he protests. ‘Not like … well, not really.’

  ‘She’s a very attractive woman,’ says Andy calmly. ‘I’ve been there. I know.’

  He can see that Matt is struggling so he tries to help him out.

  ‘So she aroused your … er, your compassion, and you felt you’d look a fool if you turned her down and then one thing led to another so that you began to feel trapped.’

  Matt stares at him warily. ‘There was nothing wrong,’ he says firmly. ‘Like … well, you know …’

  ‘Like sex?’ asks Andy helpfully.

  ‘Of course there wasn’t,’ says Matt crossly; so crossly that Andy guesses that there has been a moment of temptation. ‘Nothing like that. But, the trouble is …’

  He hesitates and Andy sighs. It’s rather like helping a toddler with his reading.

  ‘The trouble is that you haven’t told Liv that Cat’s been in or that you’ve been doing your Neighbour Pliable bit.’

  ‘My what?’ asks Matt.

  ‘Never mind. The point is, you haven’t told her, and the longer you don’t tell her the worse it becomes. And especially because it’s Cat, of all people, who Liv utterly hates.’

  He stops to take a deep breath whilst Matt stares miserably at the table top.

  ‘Something like that,’ he says at last.

  Andy sighs. ‘You’re such a prat,’ he observes. ‘Why didn’t you just say it straight out? “Oh, you’ll never guess who’s been in. The tiresome Cat, that’s who. And what’s more she’s persuaded me against my better judgement to help her clear out some stuff at her cottage. But the good news is that she’s selling the cottage and we’ll never see her again.” Why not just tell it like it was? I suppose she is selling the cottage?’

  ‘I told her it would be better to rent it out,’ says Matt wretchedly.

  Andy bursts out laughing; he can’t help himself.

  ‘You simply don’t deserve to get on,’ he says. ‘OK. Well, I’ll get Cat sorted and try to change her mind about the cottage. In fact,’ he pauses as an idea occurs to him. ‘I might just buy it myself.’

  Matt stares at him. ‘Could you do that?’

  ‘Mmm,’ Andy nods. ‘I’ll make her an offer she can’t refuse if I have to. And meanwhile,
my dear old mate, you will own up to Liv.’

  ‘Oh God. I just don’t know where to start,’ groans Matt.

  ‘Tell the truth,’ Andy says firmly. ‘I don’t always advise it but on this occasion I think it just might work. But not by text or by phone. When are you going to the Beach Hut?’

  ‘Saturday late. Staying over till after lunch on Sunday.’

  ‘Try to make it Friday. The Place won’t collapse without you. Make an effort. And now,’ says Andy, rising to his feet, ‘I have work to do. Thanks for the coffee. I’m not paying for mine, either. See you later.’

  Matt watches him go. He takes a deep breath and stands up. Andy has energized him, made him feel that things are not so bad. He feels almost light-headed with relief. It was like a miracle to see his brother-in-law sitting with Catriona; like magic in a fairy tale. And Andy had calmly taken charge, deflected the conversation with all that stuff about the paintings, and then offered to help her.

  True, Catriona had looked extraordinarily miffed but what can she do? Matt gives a little snort: she’s powerless now that he has decided to tell Liv exactly what happened. Well, perhaps not absolutely exactly what happened. It might not be tactful to tell her how very much he’d enjoyed that lunch, sitting in the sun with Catriona, or those brief moments of lustfulness, but that’s OK. No harm is done. Andy is absolutely right and the essential thing is to tell Liv as soon as possible. It will be uncomfortable, he’ll feel like an idiot, but it will be fine when it’s all out in the open. And by doing this he will neutralize Catriona for ever. And now he needs to organize rotas and get things sorted so he can get away to the Beach Hut on Friday.

  Matt heaves a huge sigh of relief, picks up Andy’s coffee cup and heads back to the kitchen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BAZ SITS WITH Liv on the beach. They’ve carried deck chairs to the water’s edge and are watching the twins, who are sitting in the dinghy pretending to be at sea.

  ‘Ready about,’ shouts Freddie, and Flora ducks obediently. Because the dinghy is beached, Jenks is allowed to sit in it with them, and Liv and Baz laugh as they watch Flora trying to teach Jenks the rudimentaries of seamanship.

  A text pings in and Liv checks her phone.

  ‘Oh, great!’ she cries. ‘Fantastic! Andy’s coming over tomorrow. Isn’t that great, Baz?’

  She looks so pleased that Baz is shaken out of his preoccupation with Sofia, his private and ecstatic remembrance of very recent times past, to look at Liv more closely.

  ‘Yes,’ he agrees. ‘It is. Always good to see the boy.’

  He knows how close Andy and Liv are, yet he is surprised to see the extent of Liv’s reaction. How much does she miss Matt? He wonders if he’s been too self-absorbed and feels slightly guilty. Before she can speak, however, and barely before Liv has replied to Andy, another text pings in. This time her emotion is very apparent.

  ‘Oh, gosh!’ she says, as if she can hardly believe it. ‘Matt’s coming on Friday morning for the whole week. He’s organized everything …’

  She rereads the text and Baz observes her narrowly. Is she in tears? This seems slightly over the top, especially for Liv, who is not one of those emotional women, and he feels a natural masculine aversion to any kind of dramatic scene beginning to manifest itself.

  ‘Good,’ he says, strongly but calmly. ‘That’s very good. Andy and Matt. Just what the doctor ordered. The twins will be thrilled.’

  He sees that Liv actually does brush her hand across her eyes and he feels even more anxious.

  ‘I shan’t tell them, though,’ she says, and he is relieved to hear that her voice is steady. ‘Just in case.’

  ‘Good idea,’ he says heartily, keeping the positive motif going.

  He longs to see Sofia again: longs for it and dreads it. How difficult it will be to see her amongst all those people at the barbecue later this evening and to behave as if nothing has happened.

  ‘I’m just thinking,’ Liv says, ‘that the twins and I could drive you over to the barbecue and spend a few minutes with everyone and then come back again. Only I’d like to see Sofia.’

  ‘Why?’ he asks quickly, rather too sharply, and Liv looks at him, surprised.

  ‘Well,’ she says rather lamely, ‘just to tell her about Andy coming tomorrow. And Matt. She’ll be pleased.’

  Baz pulls himself together. ‘Of course,’ he says, ‘but then you’ll have the car back here and it’s a bit of a walk home for me afterwards.’

  He tries to think why he doesn’t want Liv to drive him and knows that he just wants to keep things as simple as possible on this first meeting again with Sofia. The fewer people with whom he has to dissemble the better.

  ‘I’ll tell her,’ he suggests, feeling a bit of a brute. ‘She could come over in the morning and have coffee. Or lunch.’

  ‘Yes,’ says Liv, brightening at this suggestion. ‘And it’s a bit silly taking the twins over there. They’ll get overexcited just before bedtime. Shouldn’t you be getting ready?’

  Baz glances at his watch, which he’s been doing covertly for the last hour, counting the minutes until he sees Sofia again. How will she be? How will she react? His gut churns with anticipation.

  ‘Perhaps Sofia might fancy Andy,’ Liv says idly, eyes closed, twiddling a strand of her long fair hair. ‘That would be good, wouldn’t it?’

  Baz wants to shout: ‘No it bloody wouldn’t!’ He stares at Liv, silent at the prospect of it, wondering if it could possibly happen; if this morning was just a one-off miracle that Sofia might regret.

  Liv opens her eyes and looks at him. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Yes,’ he answers quickly. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Just getting up the necessary energy to go and shower and change.’

  Liv sits up straight, sighs. ‘I’d better do the twins’ tea,’ she says. ‘I’m getting very lazy, Baz. I love it here so much.’

  He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it again. This isn’t the moment to share his new idea about glamping with her. He’ll wait until Matt comes. He thinks again with some misgiving about Andy and then pushes his fear aside. He remembers how Sofia was earlier; how she looked at him and the things she said. He wants her back in his arms; back in his bed.

  Liv stands up as Baz wanders off towards the Beach Hut. She feels surprisingly light-hearted at the prospect of both Matt and Andy, as if the weight that has troubled her heart recently has been rolled away. It was silly, after all, to think that there was some problem with Matt. She’s been foolish to suspect him of … Of what? she asks herself.

  After all, Matt isn’t one of those flirtatious men who like to chat up women, and he adores his children. It certainly won’t be anything to do with the business, on which they both keep a strict watching brief with the aid of a book-keeper and accountant. So what could possibly cause this odd sense of unease? Yet there was something, Liv reminds herself.

  The twins call to her and she goes gladly towards them, warmed by her love for them, revelling in their beauty and innocence. Jenks barks a welcome and she hurries her steps, calling that it is time for tea, tempted to tell them of the treat in store: Uncle Andy arriving tomorrow and Daddy on Friday. But she restrains herself, dreading their disappointment should something go wrong. Nevertheless she hugs the knowledge as she kneels beside the boat, stretching a hand to Jenks, telling the twins that it’s time to come in.

  Sofia waits nervously. She stands in her little room wondering how she will feel when she sees Baz again; how it will feel to be near him. How can it be possible that it was only this morning when she looked at him, put her arms round him and held him close to her? She remembers how they laughed, how he said, ‘I love you’, and she shivers with the intimate knowledge of him and the longing to do it all over again.

  ‘Sofia.’ Dave’s voice echoes up the stairs. ‘Are you coming down?’

  ‘Yes,’ she calls back. ‘Yes, I’ll be right down.’

  But she pauses to stare at herself in the mirror, at her pale skin a
nd her eyes, huge with love and desire, and she wonders how on earth she will be able to hide this emotion. She folds her arms across her breast, running her hands up and down her bare slender arms, and feels weak and trembly. Who knew it could be like this?

  Slowly, carefully, she descends to the kitchen, pauses outside the door and then makes her entrance. Dave and Janet barely glance at her. They are Mr and Mrs Apple, busy in the Store Stump, surrounded by trays and plates of goodies, and quite suddenly Sofia wants to burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh, darling,’ says Janet, ‘could you carry this out into the garden for me? Oh, hark! Is that a car? Dave, go and see who it is. Now then, we’re nearly ready.’

  Calmer now, Sofia takes the tray of bread rolls and follows Dave outside. He is greeting Miles and Annabel, and El is arriving, but there is no sign of Baz. The drinks are ready – bottles, a jug of water, glasses, all set out on a table near the barbecue – and Sofia wonders if a sip, a tiny sip of wine, might just steady her. As she hesitates she hears Baz’s voice. Dave is greeting him, and Annabel is crying out with delight as if she hasn’t seen him for weeks. Sofia turns very slowly and looks across the lawn.

  Baz is being hugged by Annabel – enveloped by the long thin arms with their clashing bangles, submitting to her strangling embrace – but behind her head he meets Sofia’s tremulous look and he smiles at her. His eyes crinkle up, inviting her to share his situation, and his expression is at once tender and knowing, and she feels that she might burst into flames.

  He comes forward into the garden, with Annabel possessively at his side and Miles at his heels, and Dave is talking about having a drink, and suddenly El is beside her, smiling at her.