‘Come on in then,’ Violet bustles. ‘Make yourselves at home. Your father’s in the living room.’
Dora and Dan step into the hallway, their shoes sinking deep into the luxurious cream carpet.
‘Straight ahead, you know the way, don’t you?’ Violet ushers from behind.
‘Yes thanks,’ Dora calls out, making her way down the corridor towards the lounge at the back of the house.
It has always struck Dora, the few times she has visited her father in his new home, how peculiar it is that he has chosen to so completely leave his old life behind. Everything is different, and not just his wife, although that is, on the surface of things, the most obvious change. The two women have always seemed poles apart to Dora. Where Helen is tense and composed, Violet is all soft curves and perfumed sensuality; where Helen is guarded, Violet is relaxed and bubbly; and where Helen is highbrow and academic, Violet is bursting with small talk and gossip. She supposes that’s why the two women were friends in the first place, drawn to each other’s differences by the same fundamental alchemy that brings positive and negative ions together. But it isn’t just in Violet where she can see the shift. Merely walking down the hallway of the house Richard now lives in is testament to everything he has left behind in Dorset.
The place still smells new. She guesses it is only a few years old; one of seven identikit mock-Tudor mansions built on a recent cul-de-sac development just outside Chichester. It is all deep pile carpets, double height ceilings, magnolia walls and designer taps, the epitome of small town suburban chic and the sort of bland interior design that saturates any number of week-night property programmes. But here and there are splashes of Violet’s own personal taste amidst the beige surrounds. Down the hall Dora sees a series of canvases hung along the wall, silhouettes of voluptuous female forms which send Dan’s eyebrows shooting skyward and leave Dora smothering yet more giggles. There are scented candles burning on almost every surface and, of course, vases of flowers everywhere. The arrangements are bold and bright and the house swims with their pungent aroma. It’s all a little too staged for Dora’s own personal taste, and a world away from the history and shambolic romance of Clifftops. Dora tries not to think about it too much. It makes her angry, for the irony is not lost on her that it is Helen who now lives in the Tide family house; Helen, who had been so reluctant to move there in the first place who now presides over the Tide family home, while her father has retreated to a life of chic, show-home suburbia. She honestly can’t understand why he has just walked away from it all; but each time she comes back to the conclusion that he must have wanted it that way. It had been Richard, after all, who had left Helen, and while she has not been privy to the ins and outs of their divorce negotiations, Dora has the sense that Richard willingly handed the Dorset house over to Helen. She supposes he just can’t bear to be there any more – not after Alfie.
Violet guides them through open double doors and into the lounge. Dora can see her father seated in a leather armchair at the far end of the room. The Sunday papers are spread before him and the television is on, the glossy green vistas of a golf course filling the screen.
‘Look who’s here!’ Violet exclaims theatrically, as if Dora and Dan have just dropped by, unannounced.
Richard looks up, peers at them both through steel-rimmed reading glasses before leaping to his feet. ‘Aha! Here you are! I didn’t hear you arrive.’ He lunges forwards and gives Dora a hug. ‘Hello, Panda, how are you?’
‘I’m fine, Dad. How are you?’
‘Splendid, splendid. And Dan,’ he turns to him with outstretched hands, ‘how are you, young man?’ He pumps Dan’s hand up and down warmly.
‘Very good, thank you, Richard. Sorry we’re a bit early. The roads were much clearer than we expected.’
‘No trouble, no trouble at all,’ Richard reassures them, switching off the television and tidying the papers quickly. ‘Just pleased you made the journey. We’ve been looking forward to seeing you both, haven’t we, Vi?’
‘Yes, we have.’ Violet grins. ‘Your father’s talked of nothing else all week.’
‘Oh shush, woman, don’t tell them that!’ Richard laughs. ‘They’ll think we’ve got nothing better to do with our lives than sit here and talk about them.’
‘Well, here we are,’ Dora confirms with an awkward smile.
‘Yes. Here you are,’ Violet agrees.
The four of them stand looking at each other for a moment. The weight of expectation hangs over them and Dora suddenly feels suffocated by the burden of a thousand unspoken words bursting to break free. Luckily Dan steps in and breaks the silence. He turns to survey the scene outside the window.
‘Wow, look at what you’ve done with the place. The garden looks so different.’
He is lying. Dora can see very little change in the manicured landscape since their last visit a couple of years ago but thankfully Violet leaps onto the subject with enthusiasm.
‘Richard’s been a busy bee out there. Those shrubs have really come along since we planted them last year and the climbing rose on that trellis will produce some lovely blooms next summer.’
‘What an interesting feature you have there,’ adds Dan, indicating a large structure in the centre of the lawn.
‘Oh, do you think so? Richard was rather cross when I brought that home with me, but I just couldn’t resist it.’ They all stand and take in the large stone urn in the centre of the lawn spouting its constant and rather suggestive jet of water two or so feet into the air above the rim. Dora and Dan nod along politely while Violet continues with her monologue. ‘I read somewhere it’s good feng shui to have flowing water in your garden. It brings good luck . . . or good health . . . or wealth. Oh, I can’t remember.’ She laughs with a dismissive flap of her hands. ‘It’s good something anyway! And the greenhouse is being delivered next week,’ she adds with excitement.
‘Lovely!’ exclaims Dan with over-enthusiastic cheer. ‘Where will you put it?’
‘Over there, in the far corner. Of course I’m more interested in flowers but your father’s going to try his hand at growing veggies. Richard tells me your grandfather, Dora, was quite the green-fingered gardener so I’m expecting prize-winning courgettes and marrows by the end of the summer. As long as the rabbits don’t eat them, of course. We’re overrun from the fields out the back.’
‘I keep offering to shoot them but she won’t hear of it,’ jokes Richard.
Violet gives Richard a friendly whack on the arm. ‘Isn’t he awful? Anyway, perhaps we’ll have room in the garden for one of your sculptures, Dan – if we can afford you, that is! I hear you are the toast of the London art scene at the moment.’ Dan smiles and shifts awkwardly, uncomfortable with the praise and unsure what to say but he needn’t worry; she is off again before he can open his mouth.
‘Of course, people ask me how on earth I have the energy to spend time out there in the garden when I’m so busy with work, but I just love it – and let’s face it, arranging flowers and running a business isn’t quite the same as digging down into the earth and planting things with your own hands – making something grow. Is it?’
‘No I suppose not,’ agrees Richard, smiling down at Violet indulgently. He turns to Dora and Dan. ‘Did you know Violet has three stores now? Quite the floristry empire.’ The pride in his voice is evident.
Dora wonders privately if that’s how their relationship works. Richard has always been a quiet man, more likely to be found with his head bent over his desk or with his nose in the papers than out at parties or lavish dinners. Violet’s businesses must keep her busy and out of Richard’s hair for most of the week until she returns to provide him with infrequent but much needed injections of cheerfulness. And no one can deny she is crazy about him; it’s obvious from the way she bustles about him, gazing up at him adoringly or reaching out to touch his sleeve while she chatters on and on.
‘But listen to me, babbling on when here you are probably gasping for a drink. Now, what can
I get everyone? We have sherry, or wine, or perhaps you’d like a beer, Dan?’
They decline the offer of alcohol, agreeing instead on ‘a nice cup of tea’ and Violet sashays out of the room leaving Dora and Dan with Richard. Dora notices her father’s eyes follow Violet all the way to the door.
‘Well, sit yourselves down,’ he says, turning back to them. ‘Let’s not stand on ceremony now. We’re all family.’
‘Quite,’ agrees Dan.
‘So,’ says Richard, turning to Dan, ‘I hear business is good.’
‘Yes, it’s going rather well, at last,’ says Dan. He fills Richard in on his new commissions and the recent exhibition while Richard sits nodding and smiling his approval. Then he turns to Dora.
‘And you, my dear? How is work at the agency?’
‘It’s fine. I’ve just taken on a couple of high profile accounts of my own.’
‘That’s wonderful news,’ cheers Richard. ‘You clever thing. We must have a drink at lunchtime to celebrate. And what about your home? Hackney, isn’t it? Are you enjoying London?’
As Richard and Dan begin a convoluted conversation about London property prices and mortgage rates Dora takes the opportunity to observe her father more closely. He is not a young man, but neither can he be called old. His sandy blond hair has whitened and thinned dramatically and she can see a shiny bald spot on the top of his scalp that she doesn’t remember from the last visit. The metallic reading glasses he wears perched at the end of his nose and the slippers encasing his feet lend him a grandfatherly look, and while he is still relatively trim, there is now a definite paunch visible beneath the blue wool of his sweater. On the surface he appears like any other middle-aged man struggling with his weight and his hair loss, but Dora can see other subtle changes that run deeper, changes that would only be visible to someone who has known him well over the years. The frown lines etched into his face are a little deeper, perhaps, than one would expect for a man his age; and there is a fleeting sadness in his eyes, barely noticeable as he jokes and laughs with Dan from the comfort of his armchair, but still evident to Dora, all the same.
Dan has just turned the conversation round to Richard’s architectural firm when Violet hurries back into the room with a tray of clinking teacups and a plate of biscuits.
‘I didn’t know whether you would want Earl Grey or English Breakfast so I made both. Shall I be mother?’ She looks around the room at them all with a beatific smile. It is impossible not to smile back. Violet’s irrepressible good nature spills out of her like the water gushing from the stone urn on the lawn.
‘Never let it be said that Violet under-caters!’ jokes Richard. ‘I’m pretty sure I have her to thank for this,’ he adds, patting at his portly waistline.
‘So,’ Violet asks as she passes around the teacups, ‘have I missed all the news?’
‘Not all of it,’ says Dan with a knowing look in Dora’s direction. She supposes this is her moment.
‘We do have some news actually,’ Dora confirms.
Richard looks up from his tea. ‘Oh yes?’
‘Yes. It’s good news.’ She has already decided to be more positive. ‘I’m pregnant.’
There is a moment of startled silence.
‘We’re going to have a baby,’ she tries again.
Dora sees her father’s hand tremble slightly as he places his cup and saucer back onto the coffee table. He swallows hard and then looks up at her. She can’t tell if it is the light playing tricks or if there are tears welling in his eyes, but they seem to shine a little too brightly behind the glass of his spectacles.
‘Well, say something then,’ she urges.
‘Darling . . .’ Richard chokes. ‘Darling, that’s . . . wonderful news. My goodness, a baby! My baby girl is going to have a baby!’
Dora laughs. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it!’
Violet is on her feet. She has grasped Dan’s hands in hers and is dancing a funny little jig in front of him that seems to make every ounce of spare flesh on her body jiggle with excitement.
‘Oh a baby! How wonderful. Congratulations.’ She plants another kiss on Dan’s cheek and leaves a ruby red imprint of her lipstick on his stubbly skin.
Dora turns back to her father with concern. He seems to be having trouble breathing and is fiddling with the collar of his shirt. ‘I know this is probably a bit of a shock . . .’
‘No. No, my dear, it’s not that.’ He takes a deep breath inwards, as if suddenly finding his lungs. ‘I’m sorry. It’s wonderful news, it really is. It’s just a little . . . unexpected. I thought maybe an engagement?’
‘Dad!’ exclaims Dora. ‘Don’t tell me you’re getting all conventional on me? Mum was pregnant before you got married, wasn’t she?’ She sees that it isn’t a trick of the light. ‘Oh Dad, please don’t cry. We didn’t mean to upset you. We hoped you’d be pleased.’
‘I am pleased.’ Richard removes his spectacles and dabs at his eyes with a handkerchief. ‘Really, I am. Please excuse me, I’m just being a silly old fool.’ He hugs Dora so hard that she struggles to breathe.
‘Yes you are, Richard!’ exclaims Violet vehemently. ‘A baby is wonderful news. It’s just what this family needs.’
Richard wipes his eyes again and then walks over to Dan and claps him on the back. ‘Congratulations, young man. I hope you’ll look after my daughter and my first born grandchild.’
‘Of course I will, Richard. You needn’t worry about that.’
‘No, of course not. I know you will. You’re a fine young man.’ He slaps him on the back again and then looks around awkwardly. ‘Well, I don’t know about all of you, but I think I could do with something a little stronger than tea now. This calls for a celebration, don’t you think?’
‘I’ve got just the thing in the fridge.’ Violet is up on her feet and halfway out of the door when she turns to Dan meaningfully. ‘Oh, Dan, would you mind giving me a hand out here? I’m not sure I can reach the champagne flutes.’ She nods suggestively at Dora and Richard.
‘Of course.’ Dan leaps to his feet, gives Dora an encouraging look and then follows Violet out of the room, leaving father and daughter alone.
Dora moves across and perches herself on the arm of Richard’s chair. ‘I’m sorry if this has come as a bit of a shock. I didn’t mean to take you by surprise. It’s very hard to know how to do these things . . .’ She trails off, unsure what else to say.
Richard blinks, removes his spectacles again and begins to polish them on his sleeve. ‘No, my dear, it’s I who’s sorry. I wasn’t upset because of your news. It is a surprise, but a wonderful surprise.’ He pauses, seeming unsure whether to continue or not. ‘I always hoped for these big family moments; weddings, babies – all the happy times you strive for in life. I suppose I had imagined them slightly differently; you know, all of us together, at Clifftops.’ He pauses again. ‘Does your mother know?’
Dora nods. It is the first time Richard has mentioned Helen in a very long time.
‘Is she pleased?’
Dora doesn’t know how to answer that question, so she just nods again, this time somewhat vaguely.
‘You know, you were right about your mother and me. We fell pregnant with Cassie by accident, not long after we first met. It’s still the best mistake I’ve ever made. I don’t regret it for a minute.’
‘When you found out . . . when you knew you were going to be a father . . .’ Dora pauses, and then continues in a rush, ‘I mean, did you know it was what you wanted, immediately? Were you both happy about it?’
Richard gives a little laugh. ‘It was a shock, of course it was. But once we’d decided to make a go of it we didn’t look back. I remember we took the train to visit her parents first and broke the news. They were horrified, of course.’ He gives a little wry laugh. ‘Then we drove down to Clifftops and told my parents.’ Richard stops abruptly. He seems lost in his thoughts.
‘That must have been awkward,’ Dora suggests.
&nbs
p; ‘Well, everyone was a little more old-fashioned in those days. But we’d already decided to marry, so the drama soon blew over.’ Richard falls silent again.
‘Our news must bring back painful memories for you? Of Mum . . . and fatherhood and . . . well, everything else?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. But this isn’t about my memories, or me now. This is about your life, Dora. And I certainly hope Violet and I were more positive than your grandparents were when we told them Helen was pregnant with Cassie!’ He gives another little laugh and then pauses to replace his glasses. ‘What’s that saying: history repeating itself?’
‘Oh!’ exclaims Dora sharply. ‘I hope not.’
Richard seems to realise his error. ‘No, of course not. I don’t mean . . . I didn’t mean, well, not Alfie. I never would have meant . . .’ he trails off. ‘Sorry, darling, I’m not very good at this, am I? I am thrilled for you, Dora. You will make a wonderful mother.’
‘Do you think so?’ Dora leaps on his words hungrily.
‘Of course. And you’re both happy?’
‘Dan is delighted. He can’t wait to become a dad. I’ve had a slightly harder time adjusting to the news . . .’ Dora admits.
‘Do you plan to marry?’
Dora sighs. ‘I honestly don’t know. It doesn’t seem that important right now. I think we’re both more focused on doing the right thing by this baby. And really, what difference does marriage make? So many don’t seem to last the distance these days . . .’ She stops, suddenly aware of what she has said.
‘Well, I can’t argue with you there.’
They sit together in silence for a moment. Somewhere outside a wood pigeon’s call drifts on the breeze. It takes Dora straight back to afternoons on the lawn at Clifftops. She closes her eyes. She can almost smell the freshly cut grass and the salt breeze blowing through the sycamore trees.
Richard clears his throat, breaking her reverie. ‘Dora, I would hate to think that mistakes your mother and I have made in the past might be making things harder for you right now. You do know that despite what’s happened between us, I still love you very, very much, don’t you?’
Secrets of the Tides Page 28
