Flora looked puzzled while Sarah led them through to the dining room and offered drinks. They were just going to raise their glasses in a toast when Sarah heard the front door open. Rory leapt up and Sarah heard him welcoming Lottie and Liam effusively. He seemed to be overacting his role considerably.
Rory brought them through and poured drinks. He raised his glass. ‘A toast to the family. Great that we’re all here together,’ he beamed at Sarah. ‘And thanks, Sarah, for preparing this delicious meal.’
Sarah began to serve the soup, wondering if she might not prefer absent Rory to this pastiche of pater familias. Obviously thinking his main role was to make Liam feel welcome, Rory launched into chat show mode. ‘I realise how little I know about you, Liam. You’re from Fife, aren’t you?’
Liam blushed at the unaccustomed attention. ‘That’s right. I was brought up in Newmills. My dad worked at the Valleyfield Colliery before they closed it down.’
‘My dad was a miner too.’
Sarah smiled at this poetic licence. Rory’s dad might have been down the pit when he was very young, but he was certainly a retired milkman when they met.
‘And are your family still there?’
Liam’s face reddened again. ‘My mum and dad have both passed away and I didn’t have any brothers and sisters.’
Rory almost whooped. ‘That’s amazing, the same as me. I’m an orphan too. My parents waited a long time for me and then afterwards they realised they couldn’t equal perfection.’
Sarah cringed.
‘And Sarah’s an only child too. You twins don’t realise how lucky you are.’
The twins exchanged ironic looks.
‘Of course Sarah’s was a very difficult birth,’ began Flora, who’d been anxiously looking for an opportunity to get into the conversation. ‘She was such a big baby…’
‘Can I take your plate, Mum?’ Sarah cut in, but her mother pressed on undeterred as she carried the dishes into the kitchen. While arranging the roast beef on the plates she could hear her mother’s penetrating voice detailing the length and pain of her labour. Sarah went back and saw the young ones nodding in an embarrassed manner with Rory interspersing encouraging remarks into Flora’s monologue, like ‘How brave.’ Sarah even heard, ‘Looking at Sarah, you must think it was all worth it.’
She clattered down the plates. ‘How was the Bridge Club this week, Mum?’
‘So exciting. We have a few new members and they are all such lovely people. Mona McLean, her husband was Lord McLean, the High Court judge, you know…’ Having been set on a new track, her mother listed the pedigrees of all the members of the club. Sarah sat down and emptied her wine glass. She filled it up immediately and thought back to the week before. Tom had been there then. If only he were here again this week; then it would be more bearable. Oh Tom, when would she see him again?
Her musings were cut short as her mother mentioned Lady Antonia Moncrieff. Rory immediately interrupted.
‘Do you know Lady Antonia?’
Flora stopped in mid-sentence and pursed her carefully rouged lips. ‘Well, not exactly, but I do have it on very good authority that she will be joining our club very soon.’
Rory looked crestfallen. ‘So you don’t actually know her personally?’ Flora shook her head reluctantly, and realising she’d disappointed Rory, continued brightly, ‘So have you met any exciting people on your show recently? All my friends are very interested to hear about you.’
Rory got over his disappointment and launched into his favourite subject, himself, telling some entertaining tales. When Sarah brought in the tiramisu, she saw that Liam and Lottie were holding hands happily and her mother was nodding enthusiastically.
Sarah gulped another glass of wine and heaved a sigh of relief. Family problems averted for a while. The conversation drifted on amicably enough as she got the coffee and mint chocolates.
Then her mother started up again. ‘You’re such a good-looking boy, Nick. So like your father.’ She gave a toothy simper in Rory’s direction. Lottie looked sick.
‘Any more coffee?’ Sarah said desperately.
‘I’m sure you must have a delightful girlfriend. Why don’t you bring her along to Sunday lunch? We would love to meet her. And Lottie always brings her friend,’ Flora carried on undeterred, giving the reference to Liam her usual sneering emphasis.
‘Playing the field you know, Granny. So many beautiful girls–’ Nick spoke quickly, trying to lighten the atmosphere, but it was too late.
‘Yes, Nick. Why don’t you? I’m sure Granny would love to meet your friend,’ Lottie said, standing up and looking defiantly at Sarah. ‘Well, it’s all been lovely, but I’m afraid we really have to go now.’
Liam stood up next to Lottie. ‘Thank you for the great food, Mrs Dunbar.’
Sarah followed them into the hall. ‘Thanks for coming, both of you.’ She gave Lottie a hug and whispered, ‘We’ll have that shopping expedition – very soon.’ She turned to Liam. ‘And you must call me Sarah.’
She was giving him an awkward hug as Rory joined them. ‘Hurrying off already, you two young lovebirds? Well, have fun and don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do,’ he paused. ‘That gives you a wide range of options then.’ He laughed at his own dinosaur joke, kissed Lottie and gave Liam a manly punch on the shoulder.
The door closed behind them and Rory turned back to Sarah with an aren’t I doing well? grin that made her want to slap him. However, she smiled and went back to the drawing room where her mother was still giving Nick a lecture on the merits of settling down with a lovely girl and not leaving it too long. He was giving his normal sonny-boy smile, letting it all wash over him.
Sarah braced herself. Usually she would do anything to avoid conflict, but she had to speak. ‘Mum, I know you don’t mean to be unkind, but you really mustn’t speak to Liam like that. Lottie gets upset.’ She realised that she had drunk most of the wine and decided to say it all. ‘You know, Lottie was thinking of not coming at all today.’
‘She could really do so much better than that young man. He’s not very prepossessing, is he?’
Instead of biting her tongue as she usually did, Sarah spoke out, the emotions of the last few days giving her courage.
‘Liam is Lottie’s choice and it’s not up to us to judge. He seems a very pleasant, well-mannered young man, although it’s difficult for him to get a word in edgeways sometimes.’
Flora turned her gimlet gaze to Nick. ‘I think it’s up to you, young man. If you brought someone along then Lottie’s little friend wouldn’t seem such an outsider.’
Nick gave a smile so like his father’s. ‘I’d sooner throw a friend of mine to the lions than bring them along to face you lot!’ The lightness of his tone made it sound like a joke but Sarah knew he meant every word. He stood up from his chair. ‘Anyway Granny, if I brought someone else along I wouldn’t have so much time to devote to you. Come on now, your chariot awaits.’
He led his grandmother to the hall and gave his mother a wink. ‘Thanks, Mum. The food was great.’ A thought seemed to occur to him and he moved his head closer to his mother’s. ‘We must get together very soon, go up town, have a drink.’
‘I’d like that.’
Nick gave her a hug and a kiss. ‘See you soon, lovely Mummy.’
Rory came out of the dining room and and swept Flora into his arms. ‘Goodbye, my favourite little flower,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek. Flora beamed. Rory did the manly punch bit with Nick, who then took his grandmother’s arm and led her down the stairs.
Sarah closed the door. She felt completely exhausted. Rory looked at her like a dog expecting a treat. ‘Well, I think that went very well.’
Sarah sighed, ‘Could have been worse.’ She looked at the kitchen piled high with dirty dishes and at the white starched tablecloth stained with coffee rings.
‘Right,’ said Rory. ‘I’m going to have to do some work now. I haven’t read all of the poems in that folder and I need to write
a full proposal for the programming meeting tomorrow.’ So saying, he went into his study and closed the door firmly.
Chapter 12
Sarah was hoovering the dining room when the phone rang behind her. She gave a jump; she’d been thinking of Tom. Could it be him? She saw the number on the display – her mother.
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Hello dear. I hope I’m not disturbing you when you’re doing something important.’ Sarah bit her lip. Her mother managed to imbue this simple sentence with a loud and clear sub-text: of course I’m not disturbing you as you never do anything important. Her mother, on the other hand, was always busy, the constant round of bridge games, hair appointments, lunches and coffee afternoons.
‘No, Mum. Rory’s just gone out.’
‘He works so hard, dear boy. Well, if you’ve got nothing on perhaps you could do something for me. Mona McLean – a very dear friend of mine - has arranged a luncheon at the Waterfront Brasserie. You know the Brasserie? Very French, the in-place at the moment, and she asked me to join her and her friends. She’s the widow of a high court judge, you know.’
Ah so that’s why you’ve phoned, to let me know about this social coup, thought Sarah, but she just said gently, ‘That’s very nice.’
‘I have a little favour to ask of you. It’s so difficult to get to Leith by public transport. I thought you could just come over and pick me up and drop me off at the restaurant.’
‘Mum, it’s only half past nine. What time’s your lunch?’
‘We’re meeting at twelve thirty, but I thought you could come and have coffee with me first. I’ve bought a new jacket and I’m just not sure which skirt would go with it best.’
‘Of course. When would you like me to come round?’
‘As soon as you like. And you could just pick up a couple of croissants from the French patisserie in Stockbridge on the way.’
Twenty minutes later Sarah drew up outside her mother’s bungalow in Corstorphine, clutching the requested bag of croissants. Her mother had moved here from their gloomy Portobello house after her husband had died.
Her mother was waiting at the bay front window. ‘Now, I was just wondering what had kept you. Was there a long queue at the patisserie?’
Sarah fixed a smile on her face. Why didn’t her mother call it the baker’s like everyone else? How did Flora expect her to get there in less than twenty minutes? Why did everything her mother said irritate her? I must be patient, she reminded herself.
‘It’s lovely that you’re going out to lunch. Come and show me what you’re going to wear.’
Sarah followed through to a bedroom where one entire wall was covered with mirror-fronted fitted wardrobes. Her mother opened one section where clothes were neatly arranged in blue-green tones. Some of the more precious items were protected in plastic covers. She began to give a detailed description of where every piece was purchased. Sarah hoped she was nodding at appropriate intervals as her mother pulled out different articles on padded silk hangers.
‘Really, you should get some new clothes yourself. You always seem to wear the same drab colours.’ Flora selected a pretty powder-blue blouse and held it up in front of her daughter. ‘Of course, being a larger size does make it difficult for you to carry off brighter colours,’ she added, sliding the blouse back into the packed wardrobe. Sarah kept her face motionless. She was used to her mother’s lack of sensitivity.
Eventually her mother found an outfit that satisfied her, dressed carefully, checked her perfect make-up and, spraying on some White Satin, led Sarah into the front room. She opened a polished mahogany cabinet and took out a bottle of sherry and two crystal glasses.
‘I think we’ll just have a little drink before we set off.’
‘I’ve got to drive, Mum.’ Sarah wondered what had happened to the idea of coffee and croissants.
‘Just a little one will be all right, just to get myself in the mood for my lunch. Lady Antonia Moncrieff will be there, too. Her husband was a law lord. Rory seemed interested in her yesterday.’
Sarah remembered her promise to Rory. Perhaps her mother could find out something from HJ Kidd’s sister. ‘Oh yes, I’ve heard of her. Her brother was my English teacher when I was at Brunstane High.’
‘I think you must be mistaken, my dear. She is a Lady. She wouldn’t have a brother teaching at that dreadful school. I was so pleased when your father came to his senses and sent you to a decent school like St Margaret’s.’ She took a deep sip of her sherry. ‘Just fill me up, will you dear? I did hope that you would meet some nice girls at St Margaret’s. Do you never have lunch with any of them? With Rory being so busy you do seem to lead such a boring life.’
Sarah flinched and before she could stop herself found herself trying to prove that her life was not as uneventful as her mother suggested. ‘Actually Rory is making a programme about Lady Antonia’s brother and I went along to the filming on Saturday night.’
Flora looked interested. ‘Rory’s making a programme about him? That is exciting. I must mention it to Lady Antonia at lunch. I’m so proud that Rory’s my son-in-law. They’re all so interested in hearing about him. What did you say the brother’s called?’
‘HJ Kidd. He’s a poet. He’s published several books and a few poems have even been printed in the Scotsman. He taught at Brunstane High School for forty years and has just retired.’
It occurred to Sarah that Lady Antonia might not be all that keen to talk about her brother after Rory’s experience, but she was sure her mother could get information out of her if anyone could.
She changed the subject. ‘Actually, I thought Brunstane High was a good school. Why did you send me there if you thought it was so terrible?’
‘It was your father. He was very much against anything that might smack of showing off. He said if he preached at the Free Church he should not be sending his own daughter up town to a fee-paying school. Of course, after what happened,’ Flora glared at Sarah as if it had been her fault, ‘I was able to get my way and send you to my old school.’ Flora looked pensive. ‘It was rarely enough I did get my way. We thought differently about almost everything.’
Sarah couldn’t remember her father very clearly, a stern frightening man who seemed to have a grudge against the world. She wondered how her parents had ever got together.
As if she could read her thoughts, Flora continued. ‘There were many people who wondered why I married him. Well, I’ll tell you the reason, it was because he asked me. I should have married someone from my social circle, the brother of one of my school friends perhaps, but after the war there were so few eligible men and they were all so swiftly snapped up.’ Flora took the bottle and refilled her glass. ‘I had my admirers, of course, but somehow it never quite worked out, so I married your father. He’d had a very distinguished war career, of course, and a good job doing the books at Dysons.’ She paused, ‘I thought he was a good man. A man of the church.’
Flora looked over her glass. Her beautifully arranged white hair seemed slightly askew and her pale blue eyes glistened beneath her perfectly-pencilled brows.
Sarah wondered if she had been drinking before she arrived. Her mother suddenly seemed quite drunk. Flora leant forward in a confidential way. ‘But he was a beast. You know there’s an unpleasant side of marriage that all women have to put up with, but he was insatiable.’ She took another large sip of her sherry. ‘I tolerated it until I was pregnant, but then I told him it was over. And I never allowed him to touch me like that again.’ Flora smiled, her lips pulled tightly over her prominent teeth.
Sarah squirmed uncomfortably. Her mother had never talked about anything remotely sexual before, had not even told Sarah about periods until she’d been frightened by the blood on her nightdress. And then it was something dirty and embarrassing. ‘Mum, do you want a lie-down? Do you feel well enough to go out?’
‘What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t know what you’re wasting time for. It’s time
for me to go out to lunch… you know, with Mona McLean and Antonia Moncrieff? They’re the widows of prominent lawyers. Please hurry up. I don’t want to be late.’
As Sarah drove her down to Leith, her mother slumped into a shallow sleep. They drove down Leith Walk, where many of the Georgian buildings had been cleaned up and glistened pale and dignified in the cool autumn sunlight. Leith was very much gentrified. Her mother would never have been seen dead there in the old days, but now the old warehouses had been converted into yuppie lofts and the docklands had glittering new apartments and smart restaurants.
They drew up outside the Waterfront, which looked suitably upmarket with black leaded windows, hanging baskets, and dark green paint with gold lettering.
Flora seemed to sense that they’d arrived. As she gathered her handbag and stepped out onto the pavement, her legs painfully thin above her smart court shoes, she pulled herself together. ‘What was the name of that poet? HJ Kidd? I’ll ask Lady Antonia about him.’ She gave Sarah a faint smile and walked carefully towards the restaurant.
Sarah sat watching her and mulling over the events of the day. When had her mother started drinking in the morning? Or was it just the tension of this particular lunch date? She’d been trying for years to be accepted into the inner circle of the Bridge Club and this was certainly an important day for her.
Sarah thought back to what her mother had said about her father. Perhaps that was why he was so bad-tempered; it would explain the pent-up anger and tension that had always seemed so close to the surface with him. Her mother was probably right that they should never have married: this bear of a man from a long line of farm labourers and his tiny snobbish wife with her love of clothes and the good life had always seemed an incongruous couple.
Sarah wondered if that was why her father had always seemed to regard her with distaste. She had heard of other fathers who treated their daughters like princesses, whereas she was never good enough, always the awkward, clumsy one. Both her parents had seemed disappointed that Sarah’s height had been inherited from her father’s side of the family.
Sewing the Shadows Together Page 10
