The Long Way Home

by Fanny Blake

  ‘Just. Couldn’t she have hung on?’

  His finger must be agony, making him snap like that. ‘Being sick isn’t something you can wait for.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Of course not.’ He hopped round in a circle, his face screwed up in pain, shaking his hand. ‘Can you drive the rest of the way? This really hurts.’

  They swapped sides and all got back into the car that now reeked of sick.

  ‘There must be a tissue somewhere?’ Tony had to bend double to climb in the back.

  Jock barked once.

  ‘Jock! Stop it! I don’t know what’s got into him.’ She rummaged in her bag and produced a small packet containing a single tissue. She made an ineffectual stab at wiping the vomit from the cup holder.

  The rest of their short journey was completed in silence, punctuated by short gasps of pain from the back seat, with the windows open as wide as they would go. Charlie held her hair over one shoulder so Isla could see the colour returning to her face.

  Eventually, they arrived at a wide stone manor house set back from the road behind a small green, its mullioned windows gleaming in the sun. On a whitewashed wall at one end, a sign read The Inn at Whitewell. Above the white studded porticoed door that was open in welcome, a Union Jack had wrapped itself round a flagpole. To the right of it, a climbing hydrangea smothered the stone wall.

  ‘It’s gorgeous. However did you find it?’ she asked. It was more than a step above her and Charlie’s previous night’s accommodation. She had a momentary wobble about the hit her bank account was about to take but that was the deal – he chose, her treat.

  ‘Friends,’ he answered. ‘And Google. I wanted somewhere special for us.’

  And it would be. Their first holiday together.

  Their first holiday together with Charlie.

  She turned in her seat to see him leaning away from Jock, hand over his nose.

  ‘What are you feeding him?’ He pulled a face. ‘Can we get out? Please?’

  ‘Oh God! Child locks. Sorry.’ She jumped out to open his door.

  As they approached the Inn, Tony walked a few steps ahead, carrying their bags. Isla half-ran to catch up with him. ‘I know it hasn’t been the best start…’ she began.

  ‘Things can only get better.’

  ‘You’ll get used to Charlie.’

  ‘I’m sure I will.’ Although he didn’t sound sure at all.

  They went down an unevenly flagstoned corridor to the reception which they found in an extremely well-stocked wine shop. Surrounded by antique furniture, paintings, animal heads, the vibe was definitely relaxed country house. A couple of dogs wandered out of the bar, then went back in again. The place was busy with the sound of loud chatter: walkers, fishermen, judging by the rods propped by the wall, and those just enjoying themselves. Isla immediately felt at home there. They were soon in possession of their keys and being shown down a warren of corridors and stairs until they reached their room.

  A four-poster bed took up the most part, the same pretty chintz on the bedspread, tester and curtains. A huge mirror dominated the wall over a small desk and chair. The bathroom was all black marble, the height of modern chic. Isla threw herself on the bed, knocking the floral cushions to one side.

  ‘I could stay here all weekend and never leave the room.’

  Tony laughed at her pleasure as he sat on the sofa at the end of the bed. ‘Just look at this view.’

  ‘Except there’s Jock to walk – and Charlie, of course.’ A last-minute cancellation had meant Charlie had an attic room which she had insisted on being taken to on her own.

  The view from the window was across fields, grazed by cows, lit by brilliant sunshine. The woods to the left led up to a distant farm with the swell of a hill behind it. It was impossibly bucolic and so much greener than she’d imagined, like the background of a Stubbs painting. A fire was laid in the fireplace – all it needed was the flick of a match.

  Tony came to lie down beside her. He touched her cheek. She could feel his breath on her face, smell the Polo he’d eaten in the car. She pushed herself up. ‘I’d better go and check on Charlie.’

  He sighed, resigned, stepping back to sink into the sofa. ‘If you must. I’ll be here.’ He swung round, kicked off his shoes and put his feet up.

  ‘You sound like some matinée idol,’ she said. ‘I will be back.’ She felt odd about having sex with Jock in the room.

  ‘You’d better be.’

  Along the corridors, stopping to look at some of the many pictures, with Jock at her heels, she tapped on Charlie’s door. ‘You all right in there?’

  The door opened and she walked into similar but different luxury. Charlie’s room was tiny but every bit as comfortable as Isla’s, although the view was over the lane outside.

  ‘Look at the bathroom!’ As clean and modern as theirs.

  ‘Wow!’ Looking at her granddaughter’s face, Isla was pleased she could give her the treat. She sent up a thanks to whoever had made the last-minute cancellation.

  They sat on the bed together, Charlie stroking the red brocade bedspread.

  ‘Just one thing – there’s no phone signal!’ she said as if announcing a national disaster, throwing her phone on the pillow.

  ‘But at least there’s WiFi.’

  Charlie grunted.

  ‘I know this is a bit difficult for you.’

  Charlie looked up sharply. ‘No. I’m fine.’

  ‘But I think you and Tony will get on.’

  ‘He doesn’t like me.’ Said with such finality.

  ‘He does. He was just shocked when you were sick on him.’

  Charlie’s eyes flashed. ‘He should’ve stopped sooner.’

  ‘Yes, he should. I agree. But come for a walk with us now – it’s beautiful out there. You can get to know him better.’ As she spoke, she could see it was hopeless. Charlie had made up her mind. This would take time. Possibly more than they had.

  Her granddaughter shook her head. ‘Nah. You’re all right. I’ll stay here.’

  ‘But what will you do?’

  ‘Have a coffee.’ She nodded towards the Nespresso machine. ‘Watch TV. Message my friends. Look after Jock.’

  ‘I thought Jock might come with us. He needs the exercise.’

  ‘Oh, please. He’s happy here.’

  Jock was lying at the side of the bed as if he had been born there.

  ‘Okay. He can walk tomorrow.’ She would love a chance to be alone with Tony as they had originally planned. ‘If you’re sure. We’ll meet you downstairs for supper at seven thirty?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  Persuaded Charlie was happier in her room, Isla returned to her room and Tony. Having lost Jock to her granddaughter, she had lost her inhibitions too.

  ‘I said we were going for a walk but…’

  He pulled her down on the bed beside him, her insides melting as she rolled into his arms.

  * * *

  They didn’t get outside until sometime later. The heat of the day was less intense when they eventually set off, having been given directions by the hotel. They walked round the side of the old parish church beside the Inn and followed the footpath signs to a long chain of stepping stones over the river. Laughing as they jumped from one to the next, they then turned right to follow the river past the Inn, raised high on the opposite bank. They passed cows grazing contentedly until they reached a simple bench overlooking the water where a pair of ducks were dabbling.

  ‘Let’s sit here.’ Tony took her hand. ‘Isn’t this perfect? Remind me where you’re going next. I wish I could come with you.’

  ‘No, you don’t! First, Charlie will be with me. And second, I’m seeing Janet, my old school friend, next and together we’d bore you rigid. And then we’re off to stay with my youngest sister.’

  ‘You haven’t given up then?’ Tony had been unimpressed by her sleuthing skills when she’d updated him with her slow progress.

  ‘If anything I’m more determined. I’m sur
e I’m getting closer to Mum and who she was.’

  ‘Why don’t you think the note in the picture was written to your father?’

  Isla burst out laughing. ‘To Dad?! If you knew him, you’d never suggest that. He was the most unromantic soul.’

  ‘Maybe to you, his daughter. But suppose someone gave him the picture. Could have been before he met May.’

  ‘No.’ Isla was quite certain. ‘They’d have said. Anyway he didn’t speak French. The paper was so fragile that I’m sure it dates back before him.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure.’ He let an ant run along a piece of grass all the way onto his finger before he squashed it.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure of anything.’

  Standing up, he held out both hands and pulled her up. As they took in their glorious surroundings, his arm fitted round her waist. ‘But you’re glad we came here?’

  ‘Yes, that I’m sure of.’ Her arm wound round him and she kissed his cheek. She hadn’t felt as comfortable with a man in a long, long time.

  Back at the hotel, they showered and changed before finding themselves a table on the sunny terrace at the back of the hotel looking straight across the river to the fields beyond.

  ‘Gin and tonic?’ Tony called over a waiter to take their order.

  ‘I wonder why she left you that particular picture then. One picture and your share of everything else.’ Tony took a handful of peanuts and tossed them into his mouth. ‘I never thought I’d end up with a wealthy woman!’

  ‘You haven’t.’ She would have to tell him. ‘I haven’t given you the whole story.’ At least this felt the right time. ‘I’m not wealthy at all. She didn’t leave me anything else.’ There. She’d said it. Now everything between them was in the open, and she felt better.

  ‘What, nothing?’ He picked bits of broken peanut from between his front teeth with a finger nail and ate them.

  ‘Nothing. I don’t know why. That’s what I’m really trying to find out.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Because I was embarrassed. Because I imagined you’d think there must be something wrong with me. Perhaps that was stupid.’

  ‘It was. I’m glad you’ve told me now.’ He studied the ceiling as if he was thinking of something else. ‘I’ve never come across someone doing that before. How cruel. But if you’ve found out she was in France. And the note inside is in French…’

  ‘Yes, but briefly and she was there before she met Dad. The picture could have belonged to anyone before them.’

  ‘You know that?’

  ‘No.’ Isla sipped her drink, then smiled. ‘What is this? The Spanish Inquisition.’

  ‘I’m just trying to help. You don’t seem to have got very far.’

  ‘I’m further than I was when I started.’ She raised her glass. ‘Cheers. To past loves.’

  ‘And to present ones.’ He clinked his glass against hers. ‘Talking of which, where’s that moody granddaughter of yours.’

  ‘Charlie, you mean.’ Isla felt protective of her. ‘She doesn’t want to be here any more than you want her to be, so be nice.’

  He threw his hands in the air, denying the charge.

  ‘I’ll go in and find her.’

  He looked disappointed. As Isla went inside, she resolved not to rise to any teasing. She stopped to examine a huge stuffed pike in a case, its glazed eyes staring ahead, its jaw open. She took her purse from her bag and pulled out the note to read again. ‘Who were you, Céleste? And who did you love?’ she asked under her breath. ‘Did they love you back? I hope so.’

  There was no reply from Charlie’s room so Isla went back downstairs. Walking through the bar, an elderly black Lab like Jock caught her eye. But he wasn’t the only one there. Then she realised the object of his adoration was Charlie who was perched on a bar stool beside a couple of young guys wearing shorts and polo shirts. They were identical, dark-haired, big-mouthed, sporty-looking. Charlie was wearing one of her shortest and prettiest dresses, and she had plaited the sides of her hair and tied them at the back of her head. As usual, her make-up was flawless.

  ‘Charlie! I was wondering where you’d got to.’

  Jock’s tail wagged furiously as he snuffled into her hand.

  ‘Are you joining us?’ Oh God! She sounded like an overenthusiastic cheerleader. ‘We had a lovely walk.’ Dial it down, Isla.

  ‘Fuck’s sake.’ Words heard quite clearly despite the crowded room.

  ‘Hi.’ Isla addressed the two men, failing to dial it down in any way. ‘I’m Charlie’s grandmother, Isla.’

  If it was possible to hear an eye-roll, she was sure she did.

  One of them put out his hand and shook hers. ‘Ellis and…’ he pointed at his twin, ‘Peter Booth. We’re staying here too. We met Charlie outside.’

  ‘Saved her life, you mean,’ said Peter.

  ‘I would have seen it,’ said Charlie, indignant. ‘He came round the corner too fast.’

  ‘You were nearly run over?!’ Helen would never forgive her if she found out. What was she even doing out there?

  ‘Only a cyclist,’ said Ellis, dismissive.

  ‘I’d taken Jock out.’ Her lower lip rolled over. ‘I was only trying to help.’

  Isla swallowed. She should have insisted on taking Jock with her.

  ‘Anyway no one was hurt so we came here for a drink.’ Peter nodded towards the two bottles of Sol and one of J2O lined up on the bar. At least Charlie had stuck to something soft.

  ‘Thank you for saving her then,’ said Isla, pretending a calm she didn’t feel, as she untied Jock’s lead from the bar stool. ‘Are you joining Tony and me now we’re back?’

  ‘You’re all right.’ said Charlie. ‘I’ve got an orange juice going here.’

  ‘You could take it with you,’ Peter pointed out. ‘We’re joining our folks.’ He gestured towards what looked like a private room. ‘Silver wedding anniversary. No escape. Perhaps see you later.’

  Isla could have kissed him, despite the three of them laughing as if they shared a secret joke involving their unquestionable superiority over their elders. Isla led Jock towards the terrace, trusting Charlie would follow them, not turning to see her expression. She didn’t have to work hard to imagine that.

  25

  Throughout supper, Charlie barely spoke. She managed to order a selection of vegetables but beyond that her conversation didn’t extend beyond infrequent and monosyllabic. Apparently she was thinking of becoming vegetarian. Tony was little better. Being in Charlie’s presence seemed to silence him so Isla found herself gabbling, desperately trying to fill the silences and lighten the mood as she described their visit to Morag’s, the animals, Haddon Hall, the dog show, anything that popped into her mind. Charlie didn’t join in as Isla had hoped she might, not even to laugh at Isla’s jokes against herself, and Tony seemed barely interested, only occasionally interrupting with an ‘Mmm’, or an ‘Ah ha’. As the evening went on, and she helped herself to one then another glass of wine, her anger intensified. Charlie she could just about tolerate, giving her licence for being another bloody-minded teenager. But Tony! Despite getting off to a bad start, he had no excuse.

  As Isla filleted her fish, she was aware of Charlie watching Tony tucking into his roast rack of saltmarsh lamb as if she was watching a cannibal consume his victim. At the same time she picked at her plate of vegetables. Eventually Isla could bear it no longer.

  ‘If neither of you are going to make an effort, then I think I’ll go to bed and have a nightcap in the room. I hoped you’d both be better than this.’ She stood up, pulling at her dress that was sticking to her legs in the heat, disappointed that everything was going so badly.

  Tony caught her hand. ‘Don’t be daft. We’re all just tired. Aren’t we, Charlie?’ He waited for her to lift her head, eyes glassy with tears before they flicked back to her lap.

  ‘Yup.’

  Isla immediately felt terrible. Perhaps she was expecting too much of Cha
rlie. As she watched her, concerned, she realised that Charlie’s attention was a little too intent on her knees.

  ‘Are you on your phone?’

  As her granddaughter’s right hand moved from her lap into her pocket there was an unmistakeable flash of pink as she shook her head. ‘No.’

  ‘What did we agree?’ Anger boiled up inside Isla.

  ‘Whatever,’ Charlie mumbled so Isla could barely hear.

  ‘Has something happened?’ Isla had no way into the world Charlie inhabited. Without her help she couldn’t begin to help navigate her through. ‘Oh, come on, Charlie. Just try. That’s all I ask.’ It was as if Tony wasn’t there, despite the fact that she could feel his hand squeeze her thigh as she sat down again. His apology and reassurance he was there for her. She couldn’t leave Charlie like this. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She speared the last carrot and put it in her mouth. She heaved a huge sigh as if it was the end of the world.

  Realising she wasn’t going to get anywhere if she pursued it at that moment, Isla changed the subject. ‘What about pudding? What if we all make an effort?’

  ‘Done!’ said Tony. ‘I’m sorry but I was thinking about something else altogether. But shall we share some cheese? And have a glass of port?’

  Charlie sniffed but roused herself enough to order raspberry and elderflower ice cream.

  ‘So…’ said Tony as if about to announce something momentous. They looked at him, expectant, Isla grateful at last that she could call on him to rescue a situation and that he’d respond, however reluctantly.

  ‘What’s on the agenda for tomorrow?’

  Was that really the best he could offer? Charlie gave a long sigh and examined the ceiling as if she’d rather be anywhere else but sitting at the same table as them.

  ‘If the weather’s like this, we could take a picnic and go for a long walk.’ He knocked back the last of his wine.