by Rachel Hore
‘OK. Come on, Lulu. Grub.’ She scooped up the dog, who seemed to have given up altogether, and bore her under her arm like a barrel back to the cottage. This time when she set Lulu down in the kitchen she went straight to her bowl.
‘Hungry o’clock,’ Luke said.
Briony sat down. She felt suddenly exhausted again.
‘It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?’ Luke said, pulling up a chair. ‘Are you all right?’
She nodded, comforted by the concern in his eyes, the fact he cared. ‘You’ve been ace today. Thank you.’ She wrinkled her nose at him, then glanced down, idly noticing fine hairs on his strong, brown forearms.
‘No problem, glad I could help. I hope we hear good news of Mrs Clare soon. At least she was conscious.’
‘Yes.’ A vision of Robyn’s face came to her and she remembered how she’d been struck by her expression. ‘Luke,’ she said, straightening, ‘I’ve remembered something. It was the way she looked at me as they put her into the ambulance. Did you see?’ Luke’s eyes widened, but he shook his head. ‘It was as though she wanted to tell me something.’
‘Really?’ he said. ‘I thought she just appeared confused.’
‘No,’ she said, more certain now. ‘There was something.’ She prodded a teaspoon with her finger absently, wondering what the something could be.
There was silence for a moment, then, to her surprise, Luke reached out and stroked the back of her hand. She felt his calloused fingers circling her slender forearm and froze in shock.
‘Don’t look so worried,’ he said in a teasing voice.
Wordlessly, she looked up at him, taking in his intense expression as he scanned her face. He seemed to be fighting against it, but the passion she read there was unmistakeable. Part of her, the animal part, wanted to respond, but the thought of Aruna arose in her mind and she forced herself to withdraw her arm. Whatever was happening wasn’t right. She rose, pushing back her chair, and began to busy herself, washing up mugs, stuffing cutlery noisily into the rack. When she glanced back at Luke he was still sitting at the table, his fingers stroking his chin, wearing a faraway expression. His eyes met hers and, flinching at the look of anger she shot at him, he turned away. He’d thoroughly got the message, she saw.
‘I’d best be going,’ he said with a studied casualness, and gave her a subdued smile that did not reach his eyes. ‘The parents have a family friend over this evening. I promised Mum I’d be there.’
‘Duty calls. Lulu, say goodbye to Luke.’ Lulu ceased panting and gave a strangled whine.
Though she stood arms crossed in the narrow hallway, keeping her distance, Briony took the trouble to thank him properly. ‘You’ve been great, Luke. I can’t think how I’d have managed today without you.’
‘No problemo. Pleasure as always.’ He opened the door and hesitated as though he would speak, then apparently decided against it. ‘See you soon, eh? You’ll be back in London at the weekend, won’t you?’
She nodded. ‘And a lot to do on the book before then.’
‘Hint taken. I’ll be over sometime to look at the walled garden, but I expect you’ll be busy.’
‘I expect I will.’ She smiled at him, sadly. Although he’d probably not meant to, by the work of a moment he’d broken something important between them. Trust.
‘Bye!’ he said softly, pulled the door to behind him and was gone.
Thirty
October, and at Duke’s College the new term was underway. The grand corridors echoed to the sounds of voices in many languages, to bright footsteps and easy laughter as colourfully dressed students poured out of lecture theatres, or lounged in noisy groups on sunny quads and blocked the steps of the colonnades so that Briony had to squeeze past to reach her classes.
She loved this time of the academic year. The returning students were mostly cheerful after the break, full of hope and enthusiasm as they greeted their friends. She took pleasure in helping the homesick freshers and seeing them gain confidence. The only downside was that, what with time spent on teaching, advising individual students, attending departmental meetings and organizing a special project, a conference for the spring, she was now too busy to pursue any research of her own.
She’d only just managed to submit the rewrites of her new book by the mid-September deadline, and was awaiting her editor’s response. Goodness knows what questions would then be thrown at her. She’d have to devote evenings and weekends to it until it was done.
She’d had no time to follow up all she’d discovered in the summer about her grandfather. Sarah’s letters, all of which she’d read and transcribed now, lay stashed in a drawer in her flat. Her father and stepmother had been away on their Greek island holiday, and there hadn’t been an opportunity to discuss with her dad what she’d so far found out about her grandfather.
One Monday evening at half-past six, Briony was still in her office. Outside, darkness was falling and as she reached to pull down the blind, bright white lights snapped on in the rooms of the science building opposite and she stood for a moment, struck by the series of tableaux within, of students in lab coats and latex gloves attending structures like giant marble runs or peering at computer screens.
A shy knock on the door made her start. ‘Come in,’ she called as she lowered the blind and turned to see the neatly groomed figure of the new assistant in the Department Office. She was clutching a package.
‘Hello, Debbie.’
‘Sorry to interrupt, Dr Wood, but I’m locking the office now and you didn’t collect this.’ Debbie held out the package, which Briony took, half-remembering an email about a special delivery. She glanced at it without much interest. It was wrapped in old-fashioned brown paper and held together with thick strips of parcel tape. There was something hard and squarish inside, a book possibly. A small corner of it had pierced the paper.
‘Thanks,’ she said, dropping it onto a small table already crowded with books and paper. ‘I’m afraid I forgot; it’s been that sort of day.’
‘No problem, Dr Wood. Have a good evening.’ Debbie retreated, closing the door with a respect that Briony knew would wear off after a few weeks.
She shut down her computer. She was meeting Aruna for early supper, having not seen her for ages. The Soho bistro they’d agreed on was only ten minutes’ walk. This had made her complacent and she was already late.
As she reached to unhook her jacket from the door, her glance fell on the package. The word Personal had been printed on it in laborious black letters. She picked it up. No, not a book, it wasn’t heavy enough. She started to pick at the plastic tape, but it was stubbornly unyielding and at that moment her phone pinged so she put down the parcel and fished in her pocket. The text gleamed in the yellow light.
Where are you?
Be there in 10. She switched off the light and opened the door. At the last second her eyes fell on the parcel again. Curious. She snatched it up, pushing it into the depths of her bag.
The bistro was in an old cellar like a smugglers’ cave, a series of small, low-ceilinged rooms, poorly lit, and it took Briony a while to find Aruna amid the crowds. Then she rounded a corner to see her friend sitting alone in a secluded booth, a bottle of wine half-drunk in front of her, the paper tablecloth red-ringed from the glass she was holding. The expression on Aruna’s face, a mixture of bitterness and distress as she stared at her phone, made Briony hold back, fearing to intrude on a private moment.
She’d only seen Aruna once since Norfolk, and the occasion had been a holiday reunion with Zoe, Mike and Luke. She’d been aware of Luke and Aruna the whole evening, looking for signs that anything had changed between them, but the only awkwardness was her own feeling of guilt, which was, she knew, uncalled for. It wasn’t her fault that Luke had nearly stepped over the bounds of friendship, was it, so why should she be feeling this way?
After she’d left Westbury she had dwelled on what had happened – or might have happened if she’d let it – haunted still by the sense of L
uke’s physical presence, so close to her that she could feel the warm life of him in his breath, the strength and tenderness of his hand on her arm, the concern in his kind blue eyes and, yes, what she surely hadn’t imagined, his desire for her.
It wasn’t any good, she’d told herself fiercely. She wasn’t some naïve teenager. Luke was in a relationship with her best friend and she wasn’t going to betray Aruna simply to be Luke’s side dish. It had seemed better in the end to try to banish him from her thoughts, to leave the two of them to sort themselves out. It was, of course, a pity that Luke couldn’t simply be her friend, but perhaps she’d been too idealistic about that.
Anyway, on the reunion evening, Aruna and Luke seemed fine together, so perhaps she’d misinterpreted the whole episode. In which case she was guilty of something else – fantasizing like some stereotypical dried-up old maid. Either way, she felt unsure and self-conscious with them both, and she hadn’t wanted to see either of them for a bit until she felt she could be natural and relax with them again.
Aruna put her phone down. Briony walked out of the shadows.
‘Hi. You have hidden yourself away,’ she said in as light a voice as she could muster.
‘Oh, hi. There wasn’t another table.’ Aruna jumped up to kiss her, affectionate as ever. She smelled of wine and her favourite flowery perfume, the same as always. Perhaps, thought Briony, she’d imagined that bitter expression. ‘It’s really busy for a Monday.’ No, she decided, Aruna did sound a little sad. She slid onto the bench opposite and Aruna sloshed wine into a second glass and passed it across.
‘Cheers. So how are you, Bri? I can’t believe it’s been so long.’
‘I am sorry. My life’s been manic.’
‘Mine too. Good manic, I hope?’
‘You know, the usual. You?’
‘So – so. God, I’m tired. I’ve been away for a couple of nights interviewing homeless people in Glasgow. Not much sleep.’ She pushed back her dark hair and sighed. ‘And wine on an empty stomach, big mistake.’
‘Let’s look at the menu then.’ Briony handed over one of the laminated cards from its stand on the table and began to study the other, but she was aware of Aruna’s phone buzzing and Aruna slavishly peering at the screen.
‘Seafood risotto for me,’ she said, watching Aruna frown.
‘Sorry, this can’t wait.’ Aruna’s finger flew across the screen. Then she laid the phone down, but picked it up when it buzzed again.
After the third time, Briony placed her hand over the phone and drew it out of Aruna’s reach.
‘Let me have it,’ Aruna said with a sigh.
‘Only if you put it away.’
‘You’re such a nag.’ She glanced at the screen one last time before pushing the phone into the depths of her handbag. ‘There. Let’s order.’
They flagged down a young man with a white apron folded round his narrow waist, who listened to their order, then with quick movements delivered a basket of bread, a dish of olive oil with herbs and a handful of cutlery before vanishing again. Aruna drenched a piece of bread in the oil and ate hungrily. Briony crumbled her piece unhappily, full of concern for her friend.
‘How’s Luke?’ she said, experiencing a stab of tenderness at the name.
‘Fine. He’s fine,’ Aruna said more cheerfully, licking oil from her fingers. ‘Though he’s been in Norfolk far too much designing that garden. He may be in touch with you, actually. Something about needing to see those letters of yours.’
‘Sarah Bailey’s?’
‘Yes. He told me to tell you. Details of any plants she might have mentioned.’
‘Ah. Well, that would be all right.’ She was intrigued to hear that the garden project was underway. ‘I could email him my transcript. Has he heard anything about Mrs Clare?’
‘The old lady? Can’t remember. The same, I think. Back at home now and recovering very slowly. You’ll have to ask him.’ Aruna’s lack of interest in the matter was more than apparent.
‘You don’t like him doing the garden?’ Briony asked.
A shrug. ‘It’s up to him. I wouldn’t interfere with his work. But since you ask, no, I don’t particularly. I’m having to be away a lot at the moment, too. It’s an extra strain on us.’
‘He stays with his parents, I suppose. Can’t you go, too?’
‘If I’m not working, but you know me. I’m not really a country girl. And his parents are very nice, but I’m thirty-eight, for heaven’s sake. We shouldn’t be spending every weekend with our parents.’
Briony laughed. ‘I s’pose not, but his seem laid-back. Didn’t your mum give Luke his own room last time?’
‘That was so embarrassing. No, his ma and pa don’t do that, but the bed there creaks and I always feel guilty if we have a lie-in.’
‘Me too, if I go home. My stepmother clears up after me. I daren’t leave the top off my toothpaste or my coffee mug unwashed!’
‘Thirty-eight! We’re like oversized cuckoos, aren’t we? D’you think it would be different if we were respectably married with kids?’
Briony thought about it. Her brother and his wife Ally did seem to have a different status when they stayed, but perhaps it was that the grandchildren deflected attention. Her father and Lavender adored Will’s two children, and Ally was always so tired she was glad to be relieved of them by her in-laws. Last Christmas she trailed around with a glass of wine and enjoyed being spoiled while it was Briony who helped with the cooking.
‘I feel I’m living in a sort of limbo at the moment,’ Aruna continued. ‘Luke stays at mine most of the time, as you know. It’s much more convenient for me than going out to his place, miles from a tube station, and he’s got a mate living there now paying the bills, but I haven’t got anywhere he can keep all his gardening stuff, so it’s difficult long-term. We really need to sell our flats and find somewhere together, and frankly I’d like to get on with it. Mum and Dad keep asking when we’re getting married, you know what they’re like. And Mum’s desperate for me to have children.’
‘And you? Would you like them?’
‘Sometime, yeah. I suppose I’d like to be sure that I can have them if I wait a year or two. It would be awful to leave it too long and find there’s a difficulty.’
She looked wistful now, and Briony felt suddenly sad for Aruna, seeing how much getting settled meant to her.
‘What about Luke, does he want kids?’
‘I always thought he did, but lately he sounds annoyed if I even bring the topic up. I don’t know what to do, Briony.’ She tore off another hunk of bread and dipped it in the oil, then simply stared at it.
‘Listen, Ru, I’m not a great person to ask, with my poor record, but surely if you love each other and want to be together, then that’s the most important thing? The rest will come along behind.’
‘I suppose you’re right. It’s only that lately . . . Well, it was Luke I was texting just now. We’re supposed to be going to see my parents on Sunday, but now he says he can’t go. Can I see if he’s got back to me, pretty please? I know it’s rude.’ Hardly waiting for Briony’s answer, Aruna reached into her bag, consulted the phone then slipped it back again. ‘Nothing. Oh, never mind . . .’
At that moment the slender waiter returned bearing great white dinner plates: steaming buttery rice and fish sprinkled with fresh parsley for Briony, and sizzling cheese-covered cannelloni for Aruna. A couple of twists of black pepper from an oversized mill and an ‘Enjoy,’ delivered with a mock bow, and he left them to it.
Aruna stared down at her food miserably, then picked up her fork and transferred a blob of cheesy pasta to her mouth. Her expression changed as she realized it was delicious and she began to eat as hungrily as the heat of the food allowed. Briony picked up her fork too and for a while each was lost in her own thoughts.
Briony found she was struggling between natural sympathy for Aruna and a sense of confusion about Luke. What was he up to? Why was he making Aruna so unhappy? She felt simultaneously
angry with him and concerned. She’d always thought him absolutely devoted to Aruna and yet his recent behaviour was undermining that view. She glanced at her friend, who appeared cheerful again with food inside her.
‘I didn’t realize I was so hungry,’ Aruna said. Her kohl-lined eyes shone with pleasure as she shared out the last inch of wine from the bottle, of which it had to be said she’d had the greater part. ‘I feel much better now.’ Briony had always loved this delightful element of the child about her. Aruna’s mood would change like the weather in April.
Aruna drained the last drop of wine. ‘Another bottle?’
Briony shook her head. ‘I’ve work to do later. Don’t let me stop you, though.’ There was an awkwardness between them, but Briony couldn’t put a finger on why, exactly. After her recent confidences Aruna seemed to have drawn back.
They ordered coffee, and while they were waiting for it, Aruna went to find the loo. When she came back and slipped onto the banquette, she changed tack.
‘Did you ever get any further with the research you were doing? Your grandfather and the other soldiers?’
Briony shook her head. ‘After Robyn Clare became ill I ran out of people to ask. I wrote to someone who had interviewed Derek, the Baileys’ evacuee, in case they had an address for him, but I never heard back. Now I’m too busy.’
‘A shame,’ Aruna said in a desultory fashion.
‘Still want to make a radio programme about it?’ Briony smiled and took a sip of her cappuccino. It was creamy but unpleasantly bitter so she tore open a sachet of sugar.
‘I don’t think so. There’s not much of a story, is there?’
‘What do you mean?’ Grains of sugar scattered over the table.
‘You’ve only got one side of the correspondence. And that man Paul, no one knows what happened to him.’
‘I thought you were interested. I’m still finding out, you see.’ Aruna was hiding a secret, Briony felt sure. Then she remembered what she needed to ask. ‘Aruna, when Luke and I were in the Villa Teresa and you were waiting for us outside, did something happen?’
