Frank noticed and said, ‘I think it’s lunchtime, let’s go and get a table before everyone one else comes in. We might get one by the window then you can watch the people who are still flying.’
‘OK,’ Johnny said. He slipped his hand into Alice’s as they went into the clubhouse and her heart went out to him, if only she could take his insecurity from him. Would Evie’s baby be riddled with confusion too, saddled with its complicated family? She felt weak just thinking of it.
Frank took Johnny into the Gents with him to wash before lunch and Alice had a few moments alone in the Ladies. She inspected herself in the mirror. Her hair was blown all over the place and her face flushed by the wind. She tided her hair as best she could but left her face as it was, feeling her present ‘sporty, open air’ look was better suited to this place than carefully applied make-up. She didn’t look too bad, she thought, not exactly soignée like Petra, but then she never had looked like that. She admired Petra for working so hard on her looks and spending so much time – and no doubt money – on exercise classes, diets and treatments, but apart from trying to eat sensibly, Alice couldn’t be bothered to spend whole days on preserving herself. Petra attracted a lot of men, but what did she do when they spent nights together? Did she sleep in make-up and get up before they did to do her hair and everything? She sighed, why think of this now, was it because she was with such an attractive man as Frank? She must stop thinking about it and go and join them in case Johnny needed her.
Johnny looked happy enough when she found them already seated at their table. He’d ordered chips.
‘But would you not like…’ she studied the menu, ‘fish fingers, chicken or spaghetti Bolognese?’ She felt Elspeth’s shadow looming, brandishing her list of ‘dangerous’ foods.
‘No, just chips,’ he said, looking as if he might cry, so she hastily agreed.
The food was not good and Frank apologized. Most of it was brought in ready-made and just heated up in a microwave and the one salad on the menu consisted of a lot of lettuce with a few slivers of chopped vegetables lurking in the leaves. There was ‘gateau’ for pudding, a large cardboard-looking cake inlaid with icing and tinned cherries on top; they settled for coffee and mints.
‘Sorry,’ Frank said, handing her the plate of mints, ‘when I said I’d take you out to lunch I meant something better than this.’
She smiled, ‘It’s fine, we can’t always go to Mosimann’s.’
‘No, but even a pub lunch is better than this.’
‘You’ve done it for Johnny,’ she said. He’d eaten his chips and drunk his water – she hadn’t dared suggest he have anything fizzy and additive full – and had now turned his chair round towards the window and was engrossed in watching what was going on outside. ‘Thank you for that.’
Frank smiled, his eyes soft as he regarded her. ‘It must be quite a shock taking on someone else’s children and suddenly becoming a grandmother.’
‘I wish I wasn’t, well at least not in the way it’s happened. And what on earth will Evie do with a baby and no husband? She’s just landed herself a wonderful job illustrating children’s books – there’s a whole series they want her to do, but I don’t know if she’ll be able to keep it up once the baby’s born.’
He put his hand over hers, ‘Of course you want what’s best for her,’ he smiled, ‘but she’s made the choice and even though it’s a foolish one, there’s a child’s welfare at stake and she and the father, dysfunctional though he sounds, it’s up to them to sort it out.’ He took his hand away and she felt bereft.
‘Life’s so different from when we were young, isn’t it?’ She watched him grimace at the bitter taste as he finished his espresso. ‘I mean, so many people having such complicated relationships, and all these poor children having to get used to new people in their parents’ lives. I know I was lucky with Julian, lucky no one else had snapped him up before I found him.’ She smiled.
‘Yes,’ Frank said. His expression a moment ago almost tender now became serious again, sending a chill into her. He’d told her his marriage was over, so did he think her sanctimonious for judging people who had not lived the same way as she and Julian had lived? When she’d known him all those years ago, she’d thought Frank more of a free spirit than Julian and perhaps he thought her too judgemental? Like she thought Elspeth was.
‘I don’t think, in fact I know Julian would have disapproved of Evie getting involved with Nick,’ she said firmly wanting to justify her remarks, insist that Julian shared them with her, wanting, she realized, for Frank not to think her mean-spirited.
Frank studied his wine glass as his fingers played with the stem. ‘These things happen. Decent people make mistakes.’
‘Of course, but Nick is old enough to know better; Evie’s baby is not his first with another woman.’ Her voice was edged with panic, in just a few weeks this baby would be born and change all of their lives. Evie needed to work and was so fortunate to have been chosen to do all those illustrations. There were surely many more, just as talented artists ready to snatch her place if she should fail. Alice did not want to be forced back into the nursery but nor did she want Evie to lose her job, her place in such a demanding environment. It was so easy for people like Frank and Cecily to say Evie had made her choice and must get on with it, but she knew, much though she didn’t want to pander to it, she would not be able to stand aside if Evie and the baby – who, unlike Douglas’s children, was part of their family, a part of Julian – needed her care.
Frank was silent and still. She guessed he was bored of the subject. He’d brought them out for a nice day, a day that revolved round Johnny, a child that had no link to him at all except he was to be the stepchild of his goddaughter. He, so used to delicious food, had had to eat this instant stuff that was already giving her indigestion and leaving a nasty taste in her mouth, there hadn’t even been a decent wine to wash it down.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I won’t go on about it; tell me about your children, do you see them often?’
He seemed relieved that she’d changed the subject, his expression lightened, he obviously loved his children and was proud of them and pleased to tell her about them. When he’d finished telling her his son was keen on sailing and his daughter good at riding and how she longed to ride in events, his face became less animated and she tried to encourage him by saying, ‘It’s an expensive sport, does she have a horse of her own?’
‘Yes, but it’s not good enough if she wants to try for the big time, and you need more than one.’
‘Has she a chance? I understand it’s very difficult sport to succeed in.’
‘She’s very good,’ he said quietly.
He was worried about the expense, she thought, perhaps it was difficult to get sponsorship in France, or he had too much money to apply for it but not enough to fund her. He was quiet and, really to fill in the silence, she said, ‘Does she get her talent from you or her mother?’
There was a long pause, he did not look at her but she could see the pain in his eyes. What had she said wrong? It was such a minefield if you didn’t know someone well. She racked her brains for some light remark to ease the tension that had crept between them, but then he said quietly, ‘She gets her talent from my father and my elder brother.’
‘Henry?’ His name shot out of her mouth.
‘Yes,’ his face was anguished, his eyes on her. ‘Henry. No doubt Julian told you about him?’
‘No,’ she said, ‘it was Cecily who told me about him, and only a few weeks ago. I never knew he existed, which was odd, don’t you think, as he was Julian’s best friend?’
24
Why had his name slipped out like that? She was mortified; if she had always known it, his name might not be so readily on her lips. It had shocked Frank, who was struggling to compose himself, his eyes eloquent with grief.
‘I’m so sorry.’ She grasped his hand, ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, I just… well when Cecily told me about it I was surpris
ed – upset that Julian hadn’t told me something so obviously important to him. Forgive me, I won’t mention it again.’ She was near tears herself. Since Julian’s death she became more affected by other people’s grief than she had before.
The mood changed between them as if there was an unexploded grenade squatting on the table. Talking of the dead was painful, as she knew only too well. Sometimes it was easy, comforting to bring them back with some amusing story or a warm memory, but other times the grief gripped you by its teeth, refusing to let go.
‘It’s all right,’ he attempted a smile, squeezing her hand. ‘I… I just assumed he’d have told you about it, but maybe he thought…’ His voice tailed off and he bent his head so she could not see his eyes.
‘I expect it was too painful for him,’ she said quickly, not wanting Frank to elaborate. Was it because she couldn’t bear his pain, or talk of Julian, or… something else? Something that bothered her, made her feel she was faced with a Pandora’s box and it would be a mistake to open it?
‘Perhaps.’ He took a deep breath, and confronted her with determination as if he had to tell her. ‘Henry had this terrible riding accident, broke his back and all he could move was his head.’ He stated it calmly now, although his face was tortured as he remembered it. ‘He couldn’t bear to be left like that. I miss him dreadfully, but when he died, it was a relief to know that he was free of it all.’
‘I understand,’ she said to comfort him. But it only threw up more questions she was afraid to ask. Such a tragedy would surely deeply affect Henry’s family and friends. So why hadn’t Julian told her about it? He’d told her so many other intimate things, things about his family, how he’d found it difficult to love his father who’d returned home a bully after the war, he’d even told her about a broken love affair, a woman he’d loved who’d hadn’t loved him, or not enough to marry him. She’d felt quite jealous about it but understood that he was telling her everything important about himself before she committed to marrying him. But he hadn’t told her about Henry, his death, or even the existence of his apparent best friend.
‘Henry would be the last person to stop Aline, my daughter, following in his sport. Everyone knows riding can be dangerous, as can skiing, sailing, even driving a car, and I don’t mind about those,’ he smiled, ‘enjoy doing them myself, but I find it difficult to let her ride, take it as seriously as Henry did, though I know I’m being unfair,’ Frank said, his face calmer now.
‘It must be hard,’ she said, ‘the fear of losing people we love is overwhelming, but just because it happened to him, it doesn’t mean it will happen to Aline, and maybe her love of riding is just a phase and she’ll pass through it.’ There was a note of desperation in her voice; she wanted to wipe away Frank’s pain, to return to their easy friendship of a few moments ago. She sensed they were in dangerous waters and she wanted to steer clear.
He seemed to guess her thoughts. ‘Let’s hope so,’ he smiled, released her hand and turned back to Johnny. ‘Shall we go outside and watch some more people taking off?’
‘Yes… yes please.’ Johnny’s eyes shone with excitement, so different to the little boy of this morning. Frank had saved them from a difficult weekend; he’d given him confidence and something exciting to dwell on instead of the painful upheavals in his life.
Laura was part of that upheaval, though as far as Alice knew she had nothing to do with his parents’ break-up. It was surely too much for her to deal with. After the wedding, Frank would return to his life in France and would not be here to take Johnny out on trips such as this, and she didn’t see Douglas doing it. How difficult for Laura to start a marriage encumbered with his children. She remembered the early days of her marriage, just her and Julian drunk with love and passion, and apart from the disruptions of work, they could do what they liked – just please each other. The birth of the children had cemented their love, but that first year, before Laura, was one of the most precious times of her life. Laura would not have that, nor indeed would Evie.
Frank paid the bill, refusing to let Alice contribute, and they left the clubhouse and went to watch more people flying, Johnny running ahead but stopping and turning round every so often to make sure they were following behind.
‘What are you thinking of?’ Frank said, having seen how quiet she had become. He linked his arm into hers.
‘Just my girls and what strange starts they will have to their marriages. It was just Julian and I for the first year or so and I feel that was so important, like laying down firm foundations to build the family on. Laura and Douglas won’t have the privacy, the space, to do that, and if Evie marries sometime, she’ll bring Nick’s baby into the relationship.’
‘That’s life today, and they must make the best of it. But you and Julian were lucky, Simone and I had time together before the children and our marriage did not last, perhaps there was not enough love to sustain it.’ He smiled at her, squeezed her arm to him a second before letting go and calling to Johnny that he’d race him to the take-off site, leaving her feeling as if he’d taken something with him and she didn’t know what.
25
How strange that Julian had not told Alice about Henry. It hurt… shocked Frank deeply; he hoped he’d hidden his reaction from her. It had been a terrible time, the worst in his life; he’d idolized his elder brother. Henry was so good-looking, athletic, and so talented in almost everything he did. He was a brilliant horseman, shared such an affinity with the horses which brought out the best in them.
Henry rode for a couple of seasons as a jump jockey, done more for fun than to make a career of it, being too tall and therefore too heave to be a jockey. He remembered his brother before that fateful race, laughing with the stable girl – the last time he had laughed with that sheer joy of being young and alive and about to ride – as he had countless times before.
He’d fallen at the third last jump, he was not ahead but in a group and it was no one’s fault. Trojan, his horse jumped badly and both had fallen. Frank remembered the icy chill of shock as he saw it and the long stretched-out moments as he waited for Henry to get up as he had when he’d had other falls. Trojan struggled up at once but Henry did not. Then their lives took on a terrible momentum of hospitals and diagnoses and prognoses and, however it was put, the news was stark and unforgiving. Henry, that gilded youth with so much talent and charm, was imprisoned in a body that was useless. He would never again gallop over the turf, make love, even walk unaided across a room. It was a tragedy that affected all those who loved him, so how could Julian have kept such a monumental event from his wife, the woman he loved above all others?
But as Frank thought this over he realized that it was not as simple as that. Had it just been Henry’s accident and death it would have been different, less complicated, and Alice had been very young and innocent then and might not have understood the whole story and, having been told it, might not have wanted to marry Julian. Then as time went on and they made their lives together and the girls were born, he imagined it became increasingly difficult to broach the subject, so it was pushed away, hidden under other things, perhaps even forgotten. Though when Julian became ill, faced his own death, had he not thought he should tell her then? Perhaps he had decided to do it, was waiting for the right moment, and though his death was not a surprise it was not expected to happen so soon, or he could have thought it too late to tell her Henry’s story? After all he hadn’t seen much of Alice over the years so perhaps Julian saw little point in telling her about something that had happened to his brother, a brother she had never known about.
Johnny kept them going most of the journey back by asking endless questions about paragliding and they got back to London about seven. He’d have liked to have taken Alice out to dinner – to eat proper food after that lunch, but he obviously couldn’t as she had Johnny to look after and he was now half asleep and couldn’t come with them, so he’d said goodbye, kissed her chastely on the cheek and said he’d be back in London soon and h
e’d contact her as soon as he was.
He was going back to Paris on the Eurostar the next day so he could finish that article on the way and be ready for his early appointment on Monday morning. Henry seemed very close to him tonight, a bittersweet memory. He could see his once strong athletic body prone in bed attached to various drips and devices and his eyes, those eloquent eyes, begging him.
He could talk, and talk he did, he didn’t want to live like this, a vegetable unable to move. He’d understood, would feel that way himself if it had happened to him. Henry had been so full of life, a natural sportsman, riding, skiing for the army during his time there, climbing mountains. Their father understood, but their mother wanted to keep whatever was left of him. She would sit for hours holding his hand and talking to him, bringing him music, reading books, hassling the doctors for operations, treatments that would make his life better, but he didn’t want it ‘better’, he wanted all or nothing, that was how Henry was and Julian understood it and so did Frank, but he did not have the courage to do what Henry begged.
He didn’t want to be alone this evening with his thoughts of his brother. He had other friends, but they were probably away for the weekend or had plans already. If only Alice were free. But perhaps it was as well she wasn’t, he must not get too close to her. There was Petra and Margot who’d begged him to come to supper, lunch, a drink, just drop in whenever he could. He was tempted, but he sensed they, Petra anyway, expected more than dinner and that would be a mistake and upset his relationship with Alice, though what was his relationship with Alice? Just being kind to her and the girls because Julian was no longer here? There could be nothing else because of the obstacles between them.
Surely Julian could have told her everything before he died? If he hadn’t told her about Henry, he obviously hadn’t told her anything else about his earlier life. Alice was more mature now, knew that love was not all silver stars and sugary music. It would have shocked and saddened her, but she would have understood and accepted his revelations as things that had happened before she’d even known him. Julian was much older than she was after all, had almost twenty years of living before he met her.
Mothers and Daughters Page 14
