by Jan Ruth
‘It was one of her last wishes,’ he said. ‘For the funds to be made available to me and ‘one other’ to get over there.’
‘That was thoughtful.’
‘Or just weird.’
‘Stop being so suspicious! You need to have an open mind and be prepared to forgive. It’s over now, whatever legacy she’s left.’
A long sigh. ‘This is why I need you to come with me.’
‘To be the voice of reason?’
‘And many, many other reasons. I need you to control the eye cream.’
She laughed silently. ‘I’ll think about it.’
A week later and she still hadn’t decided for definite, although she had borrowed a home waxing kit from her sister.
‘Are you seeing someone?’ Annemarie said.
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I can’t remember the last time you waxed your legs in February.’
‘Yes, well.’
‘I’m off men, bastards all of them.’
‘What’s happened to the bank manager?’
‘He gave me something special for Christmas. It’s itchy and very unpleasant.’
‘Oh dear.’
She bought a new suitcase, went shopping for clothes, had her hair cut and re-coloured again, and made an appointment for a manicure. At home, in the privacy of her bedroom, she went through her new outfits, and that was where her initial enthusiasm rapidly began to diminish.
‘Am I too old to wear this wraparound sarong thing?’ she said to Tia via Skype. ‘Be honest.’
‘Ugh. My God, Mother that’s horrific.’
‘Too honest.’
‘And you really need to wax your top lip.’
‘How’s the job?’
‘Great; and I actually really like her as a boss.’
The job was the best thing since sliced bread.
Working for a singleton with a high-flying job was right up her daughter’s street. The female in question was working from home because of health complications with her pregnancy, but Tia seemed to enjoy running all over London, popping into smart offices and driving her employers swanky car to the deli. If they continued to get along well, there was an option for Tia to move into the company apartment with her - a posh address popped into her mail inbox - and later in the year, to travel to New York, which was of course, the icing on the cake. Kate was pleased for her, it was the first time she’d ever heard such enthusiasm for paid work. She listened to Tia chatter on as she discarded the sarong and added it to the returns pile, then finally sat on the bed and looked at the screen positioned on the dressing table.
‘Well, I’m really pleased for you.’
‘I’m not allowed to blab about her too much, because of the baby,’ she went on. ‘She already knows she’s having a girl, how cool is that? Anyway she doesn’t want the father to know about it. Maybe he’s violent or something?’
‘Oh dear. What’s her name anyway?’
‘Jo.’
Kate felt all the air being sucked from her lungs. ‘Does she work for a charity fundraising company?’ she said, her voice an octave too high.
‘Yes why? What is it? What?’
When she’d double checked the facts and Tia had stopped screeching at her they had a protracted conversation about Jo and Al. At mention of the supposed abortion, Tia became increasingly open-mouthed and kept interrupting. ‘But you cannot say anything! I’ll lose the best job I’ve ever had!’
‘All right, calm down.’
‘I can’t believe this, I just can’t. And if he’s been with her, how come he fancies you? She’s incredibly pretty and way younger.’
‘I just want to forget we had this conversation.’
‘Suits me!’
Tia disconnected from Skype and Kate switched off the laptop. She could scream with frustration; or maybe it would be more sensible to open a bottle of wine and just forget all about Mr Black and his increasingly complicated love life. It was true, she was a million times older than his previous partner and looked ridiculous in beachwear. She’d been hovering on the point of telling Al she’d be glad to accompany him to the other side of the world, but seriously, could she hold on to her daughter’s whopping great secret?
Oh, and she had an old lady moustache too.
She opened a bottle of wine.
*
Fran remained in hospital, presumably due to the concussion and her general lack of eating and drinking, although Al had mentioned that he’d talked to someone about her general state of mind before the accident but didn’t really hold out much hope of anyone acting on the information.
Kate took some magazines and chocolates, relieved to see Fran sitting up with a tiny blush of colour on her face. Her initial visit with Becca had not gone well. There was nothing especially gruesome to see, other than a plastered-up arm and a strapped-up ankle, but Fran had been weepy and frail. She claimed she couldn’t recall anything about the accident or whatever else had occurred on that day.
George had been brusque, laying the full blame on Fran for not eating, until Kate said his overbearing attitude wasn’t helping. The bluster was all a front, of course. She suspected it was the mental health issue, and despite its mostly innocuous presence, he was somehow desperate to place the onus on something physical and easily fixed.
She wondered about making an offer for Fran to stay with her for a while. It would be a neat way of opting out of the trip with Al, it would solve everyone’s problems and considerably ease Tia’s anxiety. But then she thought about the steep, narrow staircase to her bedrooms and bathroom, whereas the flat was perfect in that respect, and if she was serious did she really, honestly want to play the martyr? Again?
‘I’ve got to have counselling, and I’m on antidepressants,’ Fran said, as Kate placed the reading matter on the bedside cabinet. There was a card from George and Becca, and a small framed photograph of Fig, from Al. He’d drawn a thought bubble on top of the dog’s head.
Woof! I’m on holiday with Auntie Maisie. Missing You.
‘Oh, well if they help, that’s the main thing,’ Kate said, unable to draw her eyes from the picture. His handwriting seemed curiously intimate, maybe because it reminded her of the Christmas note. Upright, bold letters with elaborate scrolls on the tails, almost like an autograph.
I owe you something special.
‘I had a talk to one of the doctors,’ Fran said, biting into a truffle. ‘His wife breeds alpacas, so I said I’d love to have some and then I remembered Al told me all the animals have gone to a rescue centre and the farm was up for sale! I’m so cross with him.’
‘He’s only got your best interests at heart.’
‘Everyone keeps saying that, but I don’t understand how.’
‘What else did the doctor say?’
‘That I could probably go home at the end of the week.’
‘That’s great. Will you go to the flat… with George and Becca?’
‘What flat?’
Fran remembered, eventually, but it took a lot of patient prompting and then she suddenly burst into tears and said she missed Becca so much but George didn’t want her, not really. And what would happen to her, without Chathill? Kate felt her own chest heave with the sad futility of it, and decided she’d collect Fran herself at the end of the week and nurse her better. Al would just have to deal with his own business, Fran’s need was greater.
She found her way back to the car park with a renewed sense of commitment, planning a detour across country to Chathill, feeling it only fair to tell Al about this decision face to face, and while the carefully worded conversation was fresh in her mind.
Late February, and it was a sparkling day, flashes of brief sunlight lit up the wet roads and pools of water in the fields. There could of course still be snow to come but not this day, this glimpse into spring, when the air was softer somehow, intoxicating. Subtle changes in the colours of the countryside underpinne
d this feeling of vibrancy. Horses and cattle moved with a different gait, birdsong was commented on again and the low pastures were flooded with bleating lambs calling to the ewes.
This part reminded her of Fran, those desperate maternal longings, buried for years but still capable of eating away at sense and sensibility. This was likely the part George couldn’t cope with.
The hedges bordering the drive to Chathill were straggly with long brambles and the pot holes worse than ever, but she was surprised by the rest of it. Walking round the back, the lack of animals was the first overwhelming difference, and then Al had clearly been on a mission to clear-up on a major scale. She spotted him, cigarette between his lips, shovelling something off the ground and into a skip. He looked out of place concerned with manual labour, too aristocratic by far.
When he saw her, he speared the garden fork into the manure heap and ambled over. He grinned, and her initial plan, which had seemed so secure in her mind less than an hour ago, already began to crumble at the edges.
‘Don’t come too close, I stink,’ he said, wiping his hands on a rag.
‘Thanks for the warning. Wow, you’ve been busy. The eye looks better.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’ve been to see Fran.’
‘Right.’
They walked across the paddock, and already it was looking refreshed with the bright shoots of new grass. She told him about Fran’s condition and her thoughts about George. He agreed with everything she said. They stopped walking when they came to the fence and she dropped her bombshell about collecting Fran and looking after her.
‘What?’
‘We can’t just leave her. Where will she go?’
‘How about back to her husband?’
‘How’s that going to work?’
His answer was to grab hold of her hand and march with her, back towards the house. ‘I’m tired of this, this constant side-stepping. We’re going to sort this, once and for all.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘We’re going over to the flat, sort it out. You’re coming with me so we can’t start a fight. Then you’re going to pack a suitcase.’
‘Am I?’
She looked up at the mercurial blue of the sky and hoped the clarity of it was a positive sign. Al went to have a shower and get changed while Kate paced slowly up and down the hall, chewing her thumbnail. There were boxes stacked up and off-white spaces on the walls where pictures used to be. Presently, he reappeared in clean denims, a slight waft of musky aftershave in his wake as he looked for shoes, then searched her face, caught hold of her hand again and pulled her gently through the front porch and back outside.
‘I’ll drive,’ he said, and wrenched open the car door for her. They set off and the engine noise put paid to any conversation.
‘This is a horrible car,’ she said, trying to yank the seat belt across, and he agreed. When they arrived, she climbed out and had the same mechanical problems trying to close the car door but he told her to leave it open.
‘Who’s going to pinch it? It’s one of the perks of having an old banger.’
Al leaned on the doorbell for the flat and George answered quickly, looking at their faces with deep concern furrowing across his brow.
‘What’s happened? Is it Fran?’
‘No, she’s fine, getting discharged very soon,’ Kate said, and Al butted in, ‘We’ve come to talk to you. Did you know she was coming out?’
‘Yes! I do make calls and visits you know,’ George said, looking from one to the other. ‘Does this take two of you?’
‘Kate’s here as referee, and to help knock some sense into you,’ Al said.
They trooped up the stairs in single file. In the lounge, they stood in an awkward triangle, George fidgeting with the coins in his pocket and Al with his arms crossed.
‘Kate and I are going on a trip,’ he said. ‘So you’re going to have to get yourself together and bring Fran back here and look after her.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do!’
‘He doesn’t mean it like that,’ Kate said. ‘Look, I had a talk to Fran this morning. She’s missing you dreadfully.’
‘Oh?’
‘In her mind, you’ve taken Becca and the farm away. She feels utterly alone and abandoned.’
‘Ditto,’ he said, flashing a glance at Al.
‘Oh, stop scoring points off each other,’ she said, and shot a warning glance at Al. George turned his back and went to stare though the window. There was a long sigh, but when he turned around his expression was softer, as if he’d seen a different light rising from the river. ‘You’re right, of course. All of this… this animosity has to stop. It’s not helping anyone.’
‘So, you’ll collect her and look after her?’ Al said.
‘Of course I’ll look after her!’
Kate pushed a placatory hand at Al’s chest. ‘George, all she really needs is to be with you and Becca.’
‘Are you sure she’ll want to come here?’
‘I think she will. Just talk things through.’
‘Talk to her, yes,’ he said, as if it were an alien concept. Kate remembered her father being of the same persuasion when it came to feelings. George had plenty of emotion on his face though, as if he was struggling to keep it all contained. And then exactly as her father used to do, he changed the subject.
‘I should tell you, we’ve had a massively upped offer on Chathill this morning, agent says we should consider.’
Al nodded. ‘Oh, right.’
‘Al’s done an amazing job, clearing everything and packing up,’ Kate added. At this, George looked at the floor as if considering his words before lifting his eyes to carefully study his brother’s expectant face. ‘I should come and help, there’s all Fran’s things to pack and there are things I’d like, those pictures of Granddad’s, and Mum’s rings.’
Al shrugged. ‘Fine, come and get what you want. It’s all yours.’
Kate thought Al was heroically compliant over this, as if George had more right to them than he did, after all, it was his family too.
‘Well, I think we should accept this offer,’ George went on. ‘And then can we put all of this mess behind us? Can we do that, finally?’
‘Yeah,’ Al said, nodding with equal conviction.
‘And I’m sorry about your eye, I shouldn’t have hit you, solves nothing.’
‘Forget it, I probably deserved it,’ Al said, and offered his hand. After a few seconds’ hesitation, George was about to reciprocate but then Al moved to clasp him in a hug, patting him fiercely on the back.
It was a good moment, emotionally tense but perfectly timed. They left the flat in comfortable silence, satisfied that a void had somehow being crossed which had wiped out weeks of tension. She looked at Al in a new light. He could be decisive when he needed to be and the idea that him wanting to be with her had triggered this motivation, was something to savour.
They’d travelled a couple of miles and reached the bridge before he spoke, ramming the car into a lower gear. ‘Well, that went better than I thought. It was because you were there. George thought he had us all backed into a corner but Fran’s accident had it backfire on him in a way.’
‘I’d like to think it was because both of you were ready to see sense. Let’s just think about future plans, no point in constantly looking back.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ he said, and swung into the pub car park. He killed the engine and it coughed to a stop.
‘What will you do, after the sale of the farm?’
‘Buy something else I guess, but don’t ask me what or where. First things first, can I confirm these flights?’
‘I want the window seat. I’m not very good on planes,’ she confessed, then turned her head to look at him. ‘Oh… Passport.’
‘Don’t tell me…’
‘I can go to the offices in Liverpool today and get it renewed.’
‘I’m driving
you there, right now.’
She laughed, ‘No chance, I’m not going all that way in this car. I can drive myself, thank you.’
‘So you’re coming with me? We’re going to get this will business out of the way first, and then share some down time, erase some bad memories, make some new ones. I’d like you to be part of that, if you want to?’
‘Yes, I’d like to, very much.’
Now that she’d actually said it, she realised how true the words were. Her fears about his integrity and honesty were completely overshadowed, simply by his close proximity. He picked up her cold hands, rubbed them and kissed them, and she loved the way he did this. Then he leaned across to kiss her cheek but she turned her face and met his lips instead.
The connection was startling.
It blew everything else out of her mind. She knew then, knew she was going to sleep with Alastair Black, whatever the consequences, to hell with all of them. It was just a holiday, with sex. If Tia could do it, so could she.
Chapter Seventeen
Al.
‘I mean, if you had a kid somewhere in the world wouldn’t you want to know about it, how it was doing? It would kill me to think I was estranged from any of mine,’ he said to Kate, but she made no immediate reply.
They were hanging about in Singapore airport, waiting for another long haul, overnight connection to Auckland. Kate looked tired. She clearly wasn’t a great traveller, suffering from lack of sleep after a twelve hour flight from London Heathrow, followed by eight hours in a noisy transit hotel. After a two-hour wait back at the airport, they were finally inching along in another queue.
‘I think you’re working yourself up too much along this theme,’ she said, hitching her handbag over her shoulder.
‘Sorry, I promise not to bang on about it. I’m feeling a bit spooked. Not knowing what’s in the will, that sort of thing.’
‘You mean it might be something awful, like money?’
‘Very funny. I hope so, actually. I’ve booked us in to a five-star hotel in Auckland, I think we’ll deserve it by the time we get there, if we ever there. I’d forgotten how punishing this trip is.’
