Nevertheless it is still humiliating when she remembers how Benj asked the question so quickly, almost eagerly: ‘And could we do that?’ as if he regretted even such a brief sharing of love. Going back, however, is out of the question, just as it’s also impossible for her to imagine she and Benj living together, either here or in the Merchant’s House. Especially not in the Merchant’s House.
Jemima shakes her head impatiently at her own inconsistency. She knows that neither of them is ready to commit to a steady relationship. Benj’s told her on numerous occasions how much he is enjoying his freedom; she knows that she is in love with Charlie. At the same time she’s unreasonably hurt at how quickly Benj began to be uncomfortable within their new relationship that brought her physical comfort and relief.
She wonders just how guilty he’s feeling about Charlie – but suddenly she can’t bear to think about Charlie. She doesn’t want to admit how often, when she holds Benj in her arms, she makes believe that he is Charlie; how, once Benj has gone, she looks at her little piece of glass and feels as if her heart is just as brittle and vulnerable: simplicity, strength, freedom. Suddenly she fears that she’s in danger of losing these very qualities that Charlie recognized and valued in her.
Her instinct is right: it’s time to move on.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
THE LONG, LOW, heavily beamed bar in the Royal Castle is a delightful place to be on this cold damp morning. The log fire is lit, the Christmas tree sparkles, and Evie sits by the fire watching people coming in, hugging each other, exchanging Christmas greetings. Presently she will go shopping but it is good to relax, to enjoy the atmosphere and see familiar faces.
She remembers how she sat here that evening just before regatta and saw Jason watching her from his seat in the corner. He’s had a complete breakdown, Mikey’s aunt Liz tells her, so it will be a long haul. Liz is a small, capable woman, horrified by what has happened. It was she who told them that it was Jason who smashed the window and the flowerpots; that he’d driven to Dartmouth to confront Evie and demand money and, being unable to find her, completely lost his fragile hold on sanity.
Evie still has a frisson of horror when she imagines Jason finding the boathouse empty and plunging about amongst the mud and broken pots, raging in his drunken impotence.
‘Paul and I had no idea,’ Liz said. ‘I felt that I must come down to see you. We knew Jason suffered from depression, you see, but we hadn’t realized it was getting so much worse. Mikey thought it was because he was missing Helena and we just accepted it. We didn’t see Jason very often – Mikey usually comes to stay on his own – and he always sounded OK when I phoned. This is so terrible. I don’t know how we can apologize enough. We’ll pay for the damage, of course. We didn’t know about the drink problem. He and Helena were always very close, very private, and with Mikey being away at school I suppose they were able to contain Jason’s problems between them. When Helena died he was just completely devastated and I suppose he started drinking again to help him cope. I feel so guilty that I had no idea what was happening until Mikey told us at half term.’
Evie asked about Mikey; how he was managing.
‘I promise you, you needn’t worry about Mikey,’ Liz told her. ‘To be honest, I think it’s been quite a relief for him to share the problem. It was a terrible burden for him. He’ll live with us during the holidays, of course. Both my boys are very fond of him. They’re at uni now but they come home quite often and there’s plenty of room for Mikey.’
Jason, she said, became so violent when the police tried to restrain him that he was sectioned, and is being held in a secure unit whilst he has medical help and counselling, but in some strange way, she said, he seems almost happy; living in an odd world of his own, still in complete denial of his own behaviour. There is no strain, no stress; he doesn’t have to compete to find or hold down a job, and it’s as if he has withdrawn into himself whilst he comes to terms with Helena’s death. He writes to Mikey as if they were having a perfectly normal period of separation and will soon be back together in the flat in Bristol, which is up for sale.
Evie sighs: she feels sad whenever she thinks about Jason. Her fear of him has vanished, replaced by compassion and a hope that one day he will be able to conquer his demons; be able to face life again and rebuild his relationship with Mikey.
Mikey has sent her two cards from school in the last few weeks describing his hectic life as a chorister in the run-up to Christmas; he hasn’t mentioned Jason. He wrote that he and Aunt Liz are planning to come down for a few days in the new year and he’s looking forward to seeing her and being in Dartmouth again.
Evie hopes that he will be in time to see the town decked in its Christmas spirit. She will introduce him to Claude and Ben and Jemima, and to the Merchant’s House, and bring him here to the Castle and buy him some lunch. She will talk to him about his grandfather, and how they worked together, so that Russ will live again in his grandson’s imagination and memory. It will be her own offering to the past; a gesture that might redeem her own unthinking indifference, which led to her affair with Russ and contributed to events that have come full circle. She knows that Tommy was right, his advice to refuse Russ’s request was sensible and sound, but she feels a kind of gratitude that Mikey can be drawn into her life so as to complete its pattern. Tommy would approve.
The Royal Castle was one of Tommy’s favourite places, a kind of home from home. They met here in those very early days, almost pretending surprise at seeing each other, getting over that first slightly awkward stage in any relationship. Later, he was always very apologetic about Christmas; that they couldn’t be together. On the very rare occasions Marianne took it into her head to spend Christmas at the Merchant’s House it made no difference. Generally, when the family came down from London, Evie made arrangements to go to stay with friends: it was safer that way. And when at last they were able to be together it seemed so strange, almost luxurious, to be free from any constraint, and sometimes quite challenging, so used was she to her independence. Tommy understood that. They moved casually, easily, between the two houses; giving each other space, allowing each other time to adapt.
God, I miss him, thinks Evie, smiling at an acquaintance, raising a hand in greeting. Thank God for Claude and Ben.
Yet, even though she is so grateful for their companionship, so glad that they are all together, she savours this moment of solitude. She knows that it is precisely because at any moment she can step back into that circle of friendship that she is enjoying it so much: she need not be alone. So she sits on, sipping her coffee slowly, enjoying the sense of being an onlooker. As she watches the people around her one or two ideas form at the edge of her consciousness; several scenarios suggest themselves. Those familiar, though long absent, creative juices begin to move and flow within her and her stomach contracts with excitement. There is something new in the air, a different vibe, which connects her to the world of the imagination.
Evie takes a deep breath, sits back in her chair and opens herself up to it.
Jemima sits at her desk thinking about Benj. She thinks about the expression on his face when he told her about Laura, the love and the anxiety, and she knows even more certainly that it is right to finish their brief affair. More than that, she is beginning to feel the need to move, to change – to bolt.
She wonders why this need persists; keeps her on the edge, never wanting to put down roots. The price of freedom is loneliness, she knows that, but nevertheless she is driven to sit loose to the world. This summer and autumn has been a magical time but the sparkle is beginning to wear off. She has no future with Benj, and this is underlined by his behaviour when they talk about Laura; his absolute absorption with his daughter’s future. And that is how it should be.
Perhaps if she and Benj had remained as friends she might still be able to be part of the family, but she can’t turn back the clock. Once she’d believed that it could work, that somehow they could all be contained as a happy unit, bu
t because of her own weakness that early, easy friendship has been done away with. She doesn’t want to be left on the outside looking in, but nor she does she want to commit to something more demanding with Benj. She can see that there’s some destructive element at work here, the same genetic element that drove her mother from lover to lover, but she can’t bear just to become the faithful hanger-on; waiting for invitations to the Merchant’s House, bumping into Charlie and Ange in the town.
She thinks about Charlie, about that heart-stopping magic and deep-down recognition that flares between them, and she wonders longingly how it might have been if she and Charlie had met somewhere else, rather than in Dartmouth in the bosom of his family and the Merchant’s House: in a café, perhaps, or in a bookshop. Jemima props her chin on her hands and imagines the scenario … Charlie would have been alone, having left Ange and the children on the beach at Polzeath whilst he visited some nearby town. Truro, perhaps …
On an impulse she leans forward, picks up the phone and dials the number of the Truro office.
‘Hi,’ she says. ‘It’s me, Jemima. Listen, Jane tells me you’re losing a team manager … In February? OK. Look I’m coming down to Falmouth for Christmas so I’ll pop in and see you … I know, I know. I am happy here but I’ve got itchy feet. Pastures new and all that … Great. I’ll be in touch.’
She puts down the phone and draws a breath. She feels delightfully nervous, excited by the prospect of change, of challenges and new opportunities. Strength, simplicity and freedom: perhaps she can regain them after all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
AN HOUR AFTER he sets out for Dartmouth, Charlie sends a text to Ben telling him that he’ll be later than he hoped. The traffic is very heavy, there’s been an accident on the M6 creating long tailbacks on the southbound carriageway, and by the time he gets through it he’s running an hour later than he hoped.
It’s funny, he thinks as he turns off the A38 at last, how he and Benj share this contentment when driving alone, listening to the radio, stopping whenever it feels right. Even being stuck in the traffic isn’t really a problem with only oneself to worry about.
He can see that this is why the odd set-up down in Dartmouth works so well. Benj, Evie, Claude, are all people who are content to be alone, to be independent, and are prepared to allow each other space. Yet they enjoy the company and the friendship that they share; and Jemima is part of that picture: she fits in with them. He remembers meeting her on the Embankment at regatta, and he still feels the shock of it. There has never been anyone like her. How might it have been if she wasn’t part of the Dartmouth set-up? If they’d met at a party, in a pub? Regatta was a one-off, a magical interlude, and during half term there was no opportunity to see her alone; just that brief exchange in Alf’s. Even then, though, there was that vital connection, a sense of belonging, of being known, which he can’t explain but for which he still yearns.
Funny that ever since that morning, Ange has been so … well, so much easier. Less sharp and abrasive and controlling. Of course, she’s the same old organizing Ange, nothing will change that – and he doesn’t particularly want it to – but there’s a new gentleness that makes life very much easier all round and reminds him of the early days of their marriage. She was always a girl who knew her own mind, who liked to lead rather than follow, but back then their relationship was more relaxed. Of course, the births of the girls changed the balance: Ange has a strong maternal streak and the absolute need to be a perfect mother. She’s worked hard bringing up the girls, keeping her hand in with the business. He has a lot to be grateful for, he knows that.
There’s no doubt, though, that the news about Evie’s will has put her mind at rest. If Ange is unhappy about the Merchant’s House being left in trust to old Benj then she’s hiding it pretty well. Knowing that it will eventually revert to the estate seems to have removed her terrible antagonism to Benj and to Evie, which was beginning to poison their lives. It’s odd that the news should have quite such an effect but property means a lot to Ange and he’s just grateful that she’s happy now so that he can relax, too.
But he still doesn’t quite know how to manage his feelings for Jemima. He can just about control them whilst he is in London, busy, occupied, but now he longs to see her alone, away from his family: on neutral territory. On an impulse he drives into the town, slides the car into a space in Victoria Road, gets out and walks towards the river. He turns into Foss Street, but it’s not Jemima he sees coming towards him: it’s Benj.
‘Hi,’ he says, and they exchange a brotherly hug. ‘So here I am. How’s everyone?’
‘Great,’ says Benj. ‘Really good. I was just on my way home. You can give me a lift.’
Charlie hesitates and gives another hopeful glance along Foss Street, towards the office.
‘No Jemima?’ he asks almost diffidently, a bit jokily. ‘Is she around today?’
‘No,’ Benj says, rather abruptly. ‘She’s already gone on holiday, I’m afraid.’
‘Gone?’ Charlie repeats. ‘What, gone already?’
Ben stares at him. ‘Yes, already.’ His voice sounds odd. ‘She always goes to her sister for Christmas.’
Charlie is silent. Yet, after all, what had he expected? That Jemima should sit around waiting for him to give her a few precious moments of his time? Even so, he is incredibly gutted and says so.
‘And there’s something else,’ Ben adds gently. ‘She’s applied for a transfer to the Truro office so she’ll be moving down sometime in the New Year. There’s no doubt she’ll get it.’
‘Truro?’ Charlie stands quite still, shocked.
‘Evie and Claude don’t know yet,’ Benj warns him. ‘She told me because I work with her and she knew I’d hear something about it, but she decided not to tell anyone else until after Christmas.’
‘Did she say I could know? Did she ask you to tell me?’
‘Actually, she did. She made a point of it. And she sent her love.’
And then, as they walk back to the car, Benj begins to tell him about Laura, and Charlie tries to pull himself together and concentrate; to enter into the joyful expectation of Laura’s arrival with Billy for Christmas. He listens, offers words of congratulation on the prospect of their coming engagement, but just somewhere in the back of Charlie’s mind a tiny flame of hope and excitement is flickering. Jemima wanted him to know that she would be moving to Truro, she sent her love to him – and Truro isn’t very far from Polzeath.
Ben heaves an inward sigh of relief. The bad moment is over and he has survived it. Seeing Charlie walking towards him was a shock, even though he was expecting him. The real flesh-and-blood Charlie, hugging him, smiling at him, brought all kinds of emotions flooding up: affection, guilt, shame. When Charlie said, ‘Gone? What, gone already?’ Ben was reminded of Jemima turning up at the Merchant’s House, asking the same question, and all that followed it. But Charlie’s expression of terrible loss, so like Jemima’s, somehow filled Ben with immense love and compassion for them both, which seemed to wash away any negative emotions. He remembers regatta: those suppers up on the terrace, the singing and the laughter, and Charlie’s face when he said, ‘I think I just fell in love, Benj’. He sees again Jemima’s expression when she said, ‘You’ll tell Charlie I’m moving to Truro, won’t you, Benj? Give him my love,’ and Ben wonders if, somewhere in the future, there might be, for Jemima and Charlie, another time to laugh; a time to dance.
And now, as they drive home together, Charlie seems to have grown calm, even cheerful. He listens when Ben talks about Laura, and manages a joke, and by the time they arrive at the Merchant’s House their old comradeship is restored and they are ready to celebrate Christmas with Evie and Claude.
‘Stop fussing, Claude,’ Evie is saying. ‘The Christmas tree lights are here in a separate box. Those are just the decorations.’
Claude takes the string of lights carefully from the box she hands him, puts the plug in and switches on. The lights flicker and glow in the
ir nest of plastic wire and he heaves a sigh of relief.
‘Could have gone either way,’ he says. ‘Never can tell if they’re going to work.’
‘Ben or Charlie will have to put them on the tree,’ says Evie. ‘They’ve got nice long arms.’
Claude switches the lights off again and carefully disentangles them. Ben’s idea that he and Charlie should decorate the tree is rather a good one. It will tide them over those first emotional moments of arrival, get Christmas under way, and begin these few precious days on a high note.
‘I’ll make some tea,’ Evie is saying, ‘and we’ll cut the Christmas cake, shall we?’
‘Good idea,’ he says. ‘And Ben’s bought a CD of Christmas carols. He says he always has to have carols when he’s decorating the tree. It’s a throwback to when Laura was small and they did it together.’
There is a little silence.
‘It’s strange to think,’ says Evie, ‘that Laura and Billy will be here soon. We’ve never met him and he’s to be her husband. One of the family.’
‘Strange,’ he agrees, ‘but nice, too, don’t you agree?’
Summer on the River Page 29
