'Do you think you can compete with Indiana Jones?' Laughter bubbled upwards. 'Not in such good shape indeed!' and when Joe flung back the covers to get out of bed she turned and fled, still laughing. Joe helped decorate the tree, and when Megan learned he was then leaving she hid behind the sofa, never one to make a fuss in public. Joe, who had gone out to see if the Tiger would start, returned to say goodbye. Catherine indicated the sofa when he asked where Megan was and he crawled behind it, softly calling her name. Whisperings could be heard for some seconds and finally they both emerged. Tears had been wiped and Megan said with careful pride, 'Joseph and me have a secret.'
'How lovely,' Catherine said, smiling. Freddy made no comment, standing by the window, looking on. Megan took her granny's outstretched hand and submitted to her suggestion that she put on outdoor clothes so that she could wave goodbye to Joseph from the gate, and the two of them left the room. Freddy had watched the performance behind the sofa with mixed feelings, and the fact that they were mixed added to her touchiness. She didn't want Joe anywhere near Megan if she had a choice. Yes, she knew it was irrational, but there it was, that was how she felt. She wanted him gone. He had been kind and extremely helpful, but now she wanted him to leave. She said quickly, 'I can't thank you enough for bringing me home, Joe. I know you don't want any thanks, but you're going to have them all the same. I just hope it hasn't been too inconvenient and upset too many of your plans.'
Joe listened to her patiently and said, 'Tell me, Fred, what's so significant about two spoons in the same saucer?'
'What?' Caught off balance, Freddy wrinkled up her nose and then remembered the previous evening, taking coffee, and her mother remarking that there were two spoons in the same saucer— Freddy's doing. 'Oh, that!'
She shrugged and gave a short laugh. 'Old wives' tale. It means a wedding will be on the way.' Her voice was drily amused.
'Does your mother believe in superstition?'
'I don't think so, generally. She would, however, like to see me married again, so you'd better watch out, Joe. I think she sees you as a likely candidate. But don't worry, I've already told her you're not the marrying kind.' As she spoke she was moving into the hall, Joe following. 'Have a good Christmas and take care on the journey home, won't you? I suppose I'll be seeing you around in the New Year.'
Joe made some reply and caught her arm. She turned, a questioning look on her face and heard him say, 'Too good to miss,' and she was enveloped in a firm embrace and very thoroughly kissed. As kisses went it couldn't reach the scale of ten, not having the time or place in its favour, but all things being equal, it couldn't be written off completely. Joe felt big and overpowering in the sheepskin, and when he lifted his head he was in no hurry to let her go. His eyes bored down into hers, a satirical gleam deepening the brown depths, and his lips were slightly pursed. What he might have said or done next Freddy was not to learn, for a movement out of the corner of her eye told her they had had witnesses. She gave a nervous jump and would have thrust him away, but Joe wouldn't let her.
'Me too, please, me too,' demanded Megan, running forwards and lifting her arms. Joe slowly released Freddy—no hurried, embarrassed leaping apart for him—and he grinned, picking Megan up with ease. He kissed both her cheeks, her forehead, her nose and finally her lips, in quick pecks. When he put her down, Megan urged, 'Now Granny! Your turn, Granny.'
'Don't you think I'm too old?' smiled Catherine.
Joe shook his head and held out a hand. 'No one's ever too old for mistletoe,' he stated firmly, and drew his hostess under the hanging twig of evergreen and kissed her on both cheeks, French fashion. He gave her another of his special smiles, lit warm and genuine, without a hint of the usual cynicism, thanked her again for her hospitality, and then took Megan's hand and they walked together down the path. Catherine murmured, 'That young man has incredible charm, when he chooses.' She regarded her daughter thoughtfully. 'The word has gone out of fashion these days, but your father would know what I mean, and I use it as a compliment.' She returned her gaze to her granddaughter, who was still waving from the gate even though the red sports car could no longer be seen and could only just be heard, rumbling in the distance. 'Megan is starved of the company of men.'
Freddy gave a grim smile. '1 know, Mum, but there's not much I can do about it at the moment. Nothing sensible, I mean.' The smile trembled a little, and became vulnerable.
Catherine searched her daughter's face for some seconds and then touched her cheek, saying softly, 'I know, I know,' and went on more briskly, 'Shall we walk to the bakery? The exercise will do us all good, Dini especially.'
Freddy nodded and went to fetch her coat. She knew her mother was right, but nothing was perfect and life was mostly compromise. Some people had to compromise more than others, that was all.
On impulse she sought out a dictionary and flipped through until she came to the word she was seeking. Charm... quality of exercising fascination. She grimaced, shut the book and went to join her mother and Megan. Christmas Day brought forth several gifts, and a few surprises. A parcel had come for Megan from her father in Hong Kong which, when opened, produced forth a number of presents suitable for a five-year-old. And there were two parcels under the tree from Joe, obviously sneaked there by him when no one was about. As Freddy watched Megan open hers she realised that he must have brought them with him from Queensbridge, for they were beautifully gift-wrapped and there had been no opportunity to buy anything in Yorkshire.
Megan opened up the paper with great excitement and found a large, beautifully illustrated book of fairy tales written by the Brothers Grimm. It was a little too old for her at the moment, but the pictures, some quite weird and menacing, others strange and beautiful, enchanted her, and nothing more was heard from her for some time as she turned the pages. Freddy opened her parcel with an amount of restraint, aware of her parents'
interested gaze. It was apparent by its shape that it, too, was a book, and when she pulled aside the wrapper she found it to be a hardback copy of Joe's first book. Written on the flyleaf was a simple inscription with no embellishments.
Freddy handed it to her mother, saying, 'I mentioned once that my copy had been lost—I lent it to someone and they never returned it, but said they had. It was then that I vowed I'd never lend out any more of my books.'
Catherine was reading the jacket-flap and murmured, 'My goodness, he wrote this when he was only twenty-two!'
'Read it over the holiday, Mum,' suggested Freddy.
Catherine passed the book to her husband, who said, 'Urn... nice chap, Joseph—interesting to talk to.'
Between the mouth of the Steeping River, pinnacled by Gibraltar Point, and the old market town of Boston, a twenty-three mile stretch of seabank lay between marshy foreshore and reclaimed fertile farmland. It was not frequented by holidaymakers in the summer months, they made for the sandy beaches of Skegness and Mablethorpe, seeing nothing to interest them in the mud-flats and marshes.
For the bird-watchers and wildlife enthusiasts it was a different matter, and for the Leigh family, the place was special. This remote shore held happy childhood memories for Freddy, and there was not one inch of its coastline that was not known to her. With friends she had sailed a dinghy, fished and swum, played games of hide and seek, shipwrecks and castaways, and as she had grown older she had inherited her parents' love of wild flowers and bird and animal life.
The day after Boxing Day, Edmund Leigh and his daughter, together with Houdini, drove the few miles to the coast, parked, and set off for a brisk walk along-the shore.
'Will that hound come back?' Edmund asked curiously as the distance between them and Houdini increased.
Freddy grinned. 'With luck, he will! He's much better at coming to heel in open spaces than back home.'
As if to prove her point Houdini came pounding back, ran twice round them and set off again, Edmund muttering, 'Absolutely mad, that dog.'
Freddy tucked her arm through her father's and they be
gan to walk. They were well wrapped up and their faces began to take on a healthy pink glow from the wind. Freddy swept her gaze across the waters of the Wash, dark grey merging into the lighter grey of the sky. Snow lay in patches on the mud-flats and spiky grass on the seabank struggled to give some colour to the landscape.
'I sometimes think,' she said, 'that nowhere has such huge skies as the Fens.'
Edmund grunted his agreement. They walked in a desultory manner for a while, faces slightly down against the head wind, and then he said suddenly,
'Your mother seems quite taken with your Joseph Corey.'
Freddy gave a short, hard laugh. 'I don't think Joe would agree with the possessive adjective, Dad, and neither do I.' She slanted her father a glance.
'Um... well, of course, you know best, but as we've never heard anyone call you Fred before and get away with it, you can see why your mother and I had food for thought.' They walked a few yards in silence and he squeezed her arm. 'You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to,' Edmund said gently, and Freddy grimaced and gave a funny little shrug of her shoulders.
'There's hardly anything to tell, Dad. Life's full of surprises, isn't it? I suppose Mother remembered him. What a revoltingly good memory she has.'
'My dear girl, what happens to you is important to us.' Edmund stopped.
'Shall we turn back? I think we've gone far enough.'
They called to Houdini who stood watching them, wondering if they meant it, and when they began to walk away from him he ran after them, tongue lolling, mouth a wide grin.
The wind was now behind them, making it easier. A bird flew out of the marsh and disappeared inland.
Freddy asked diffidently, 'What do you know about Joe?'
'Not a great deal. The main thing being that at one time he was important to you.' Edmund paused and asked gently, 'Is he still?'
'Dad, it's eight years ago! A lot's happened since then.'
'Time doesn't mean much.'
'I don't know what I feel,' Freddy said bitterly, and kicked a lump of hard snow. 'I'm hardly an authority on love, am I?'
'There's no need to let one mistake colour your life. And it's better to acknowledge a marriage isn't working than carry on, with everyone being miserable. The problem is, we Leighs never like admitting we're wrong.'
Edmund was glad to see that this produced a small smile.
'I'm no repressed female, Dad. I have my moments, but on my own terms.'
'And Corey is a threat to those terms?'
'He could be,' she replied simply. Conversation was halted as they reached the car. Houdini was caught and dried off and, as they settled into their seats, Freddy went on gruffly, 'I don't want you and Mum to worry about me.'
'Ah, well, that's difficult,' admitted Edmund, 'because, of course, we do. It's our privilege. Not that our concern for your future is out of proportion, you understand. We respect the way you're tackling living on your own, how you're bringing up Megan. We do what we can to help, but the reins are in your hands, which is how it should be. We won't be around for ever. The thing is, Freddy, my dear, we all have certain characteristics that work against us sometimes, and it's necessary to remember them from time to time. You have a tendency to expect too much from those you hold in esteem, those you love. You put them up on a pedestal and are devastated and hurt when they fall off. You also expect too much of yourself, which I suppose does even things out a little.' He gave a smile.
Freddy pulled a face. 'You make me sound like a fool, Dad.'
'No, no, it's not a bad fault, in fact it often produces remarkable results in those who aspire to live up to your expectations. But I think now you're veering the other way, and not expecting anything, and that would be a pity. Relax a bit, eh? Don't be so hard on yourself.' He took the hand nearest to him and squeezed it encouragingly. Then, voice changing to a brisk note, he went on, 'And now, if I've judged rightly, it will be sherry time when we get home!' Giving her a twinkling smile, he put the subject aside as they talked of other things on the way home.
Freddy finished Joe's book, reading in bed that night. She had forgotten how good it was, as it delicately explored an idyllic summer through the eyes of a group of adolescents before they stepped into adulthood. She lay back on the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Whenever she thought of Joe and their time together she remembered the fun and laughter, the spirited arguments, the wild, passionate lovemaking, and conveniently forgot the depths to the man, perhaps on purpose. She was glad she had given in to impulse and let him make love to her, the night of baby Josephine's birth. It was an incident in its own right, isolated, happening for many reasons, probably the most important one being that she needed to exorcise the wretched man. She put down the book and turned out the lamp. It was not quite so easy to exorcise the mental picture of firelight playing on a smooth, rounded shoulder and hip, and the touch of magical hands...
Catherine drove them back to Queensbridge, and stayed a couple of days before returning to Boston. Judith was still in America and Mrs Mallory was not coming in until school started again, so Freddy was looking forward to having Megan to herself for the remaining few days left of the holiday. She was lucky to be able to borrow Judith's Mini while she waited for the Renault to be repaired.
Megan was consumed by the secret she shared with Joe, and could barely restrain herself from spilling it to her mother. Freddy had confused emotions about this secret. She didn't want to be linked with Joe in any way, yet remembered her mother's comment that Megan was starved of male company. And Megan was so excited about it--whatever it was—that Freddy hadn't the heart to do anything about stopping it.
The Tiger pulled up outside the house one morning and Megan came rushing into the kitchen, shouting, 'Mummy, Joseph's come! It's about my secret!'
Freddy groaned a sigh. She had no make-up on, was in her oldest pair of jeans with a well-washed baggy sweater, and her hair was tied back with one of Megan's ribbons. Not, she told herself grimly as she brushed flour from her hands, that it was necessary for her to look glamorous for Joe. She left on the butcher's apron; after all, she was cooking and it was a good cover-up. It was snowing again and flakes were clinging to Joe's hair and to shoulders made broad by the sheepskin coat. A flurry of wind hurled snow into the hall and he stepped in quickly.
'Hello, Joe,' Freddy said, 'nice weather you've brought with you. Let me have your coat.' She waited while he shrugged it off and hung it over the banister. She made herself meet his eyes with a clear, friendly look and received a similar one in return. The earlier excitement of Joe's arrival was now gone and Megan gazed up at him, tongue-tied. He bent his knees and brought himself down to her level.'Hello, Meggie. Did Father Christmas come?'
Megan nodded shyly. 'You can thank Joseph for his present now, can't you, Meg?' primed Freddy, who knew how successful that particular gift had been by the number of times she had been obliged to read it. Megan needed no second bidding and then asked if she could kiss him, please?
'I would be disappointed if you didn't,' replied Joe, whereupon Megan put the palms of her hands against his cheeks and gave him a solemn kiss. Joe scooped her up and straightened, asking, 'Is flour in fashion these days, Fred? 'and lightly brushed the dusting of white powder from her chin. Megan chuckled delightedly and Freddy said, 'Of course it is, fancy you not knowing. Would you like coffee?' and preceded him into the kitchen. She nodded to the coffee pot keeping hot on the hob.
'Help yourself, I want to get this pie in the oven,' and she began to roll out the pastry. Joe put Megan back on her feet, unhooked a mug from the dresser and poured himself coffee, his eyes sweeping across the variety of cakes and pastries cooling on the side.
'I can't remember such domesticity in the old days,' he mused. 'What hidden talents you do have, Frederica.'
'Any idiot can cook,' Freddy came back sweetly, 'even you!' She dropped pastry over the dish of meat and vegetables, catching Joe's brief look of amusement before she expertly crimped the edges.
'The temptation to hit you over the head with this rolling pin is extremely great,' remarked Freddy pleasantly, 'but I'll resist because I'm trying to teach Meg that violence is a last resort. She's of an age, unfortunately, to be included in the category of en slaved female—Michael Carlyon being the culprit—but I hope to educate her. By the time she's in the position of becoming some man's mate I trust she will be able to hold her own with a screwdriver and sparking plugs and tell him to cook his own goose. However, at the moment she would be thrilled, really thrilled, if you would succumb to the temptation of tasting one of her jam tarts.'
Megan clapped her hands, exclaiming, 'Joseph, you must have one, but the jam might be too hot. Will the jam be all right, Mummy?'
'The jam will be just perfect,' assured Freddy, her face overly innocent, and watched as Joe, with due ceremony, popped one of the tiny tarts into his mouth. From past experience Freddy knew the pastry would be rock-hard, having been rolled out many times with frowning concentration.
'Dee-lishous!' proclaimed Joe, chomping manfully.
'Do have another,' urged Freddy with gentle persuasion,
'I shall take two,' declared Joe, and did so, sampling them with every evidence of enjoyment, while Megan looked on, her eyes shining with pride.
'You're a brave man, Joseph Corey,' Freddy murmured, for his ears alone. Then, turning to Megan, went on normally, 'Why don't you show Joseph your doll's house, Meggie?' She turned to the sink and began to wash her hands, while Megan pulled at Joe, leading him out of the kitchen. Freddy leaned against the sink, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. She would have to keep away from him, have to! For a split second, watching him with Megan, she had imagined Joe being with them always, imagined a swift succession of scenes, similar to the one they had just played, the three of them having fun, teasing and laughing and sharing, and she had had to turn away before Joe could read her thoughts, catch the longing in her eyes. He had no right to be so good with children, she thought despairingly, it just wasn't fair! Why was he bothering with Megan like this? Her mind darted to and fro, choosing and rejecting answers. She gave an exasperated sigh and pushed the pie in the oven. As she was doing so Megan rushed in, excited, and flung herself at her mother. Joe followed and leaned against the door-frame, looking on, a small secret smile on his lips, his eyes on Freddy, his manner lazy.
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