‘He has done well,’ agrees Mo warmly; always ready to respond to any praise of her beloved grandson. ‘And that’s the whole thing, Pa. Why should Natasha and those girls just waltz in and claim half of everything? Clem’s got very little and he works so hard, not to mention how much Dossie does for us. I know we gave her and Clem a home, and Dossie’s never had to find a place to live—’
‘As Adam was so ready to point out to us,’ mutters Pa.
‘I know.’ Mo walks for a while in silence. ‘How horrid it is,’ she says at last. ‘I love Adam – of course I do – but …’
‘But he’s our son,’ says Pa. ‘And we have to be fair. Look, if I die everything comes to you, and if you die everything comes to me. That bit’s easy. But if we pop off together …’
She takes his arm and they pause again to watch a pair of bullfinches flitting in and out of the hedge: the flash of a carmine breast and the flirt of a white and black barred tail.
‘Bet they’ve got a nest here somewhere,’ he murmurs, and then Jakey is back again.
‘Is it time for our picnic, Mo?’ he asks hopefully.
‘Picnic?’ repeats Pa. ‘We’ve only been out five minutes. What’s all this about picnics?’
Jakey watches him, eyes bright: ‘You’ve got it in your pocket,’ he says, jigging up and down on his saddle. ‘I saw you put it in.’
‘What?’ Pa pats his jacket, frowning, shaking his head. ‘No, nothing there.’
Jakey drops his bicycle and flings himself at Pa, reaching inside his coat to the big poacher’s pocket and wrestling out the bag.
‘Good grief!’ says Pa, amazed. ‘Look at that. Whatever can it be?’
‘It’s the picnic,’ shouts Jakey jubilantly. ‘Is there chocolate, Mo?’
‘There’s a biscuit,’ Mo says, opening the bag. ‘It might even be a chocolate biscuit. Here come the dogs. Now they’ll want something too.’
They gather in a field gateway. Jakey perches on the top rung of the gate, while the dogs munch the biscuits that Pa always keeps in his pockets for them. Mo passes Pa a Kit-Kat.
‘We could divide it into parts,’ murmurs Pa, unwrapping it. ‘No, not the biscuit. The estate. So many parts for Dossie, so many for Clem and Jakey, and so on. Doesn’t have to be straight down the middle, does it? It could be split into four parts, if it came to that.’
‘Oh!’ She looks at him. ‘Yes, I see. That’s a good idea, Pa.’
He is staring over the field and he smiles suddenly, his face filled with joy. ‘Look!’ he says. ‘See it?’
She turns and stares in the direction of his upraised arm. Skimming the new green shoots, swooping low over the field, there is no mistaking those long tail streamers, the gleaming bluish black feathers and pale breast. It is the first swallow of the summer.
Dossie is in Wadebridge. She’s already finished her shopping and now she sits in the café, her mobile on the table beside her, waiting. She is allowing Rupert to be proactive, restraining herself from being pushy or keen, but she keeps her mobile close to hand these days: he is very good at sending quick, friendly texts.
This morning he texts that he’s just been to Bodmin to collect some supplies – is she anywhere around, by any chance?
In Wadebridge, she texts. Shopping. Having coffee in Relish in Foundry Square later.
C u in 20 mins, he answers – and so here she is: waiting. Of course, she wasn’t going to have coffee at all – she was thinking about getting back home to Mo and Pa and Jakey – but the opportunity is too good to miss. She’s put the shopping bags into the car and then dashed round to Relish, and into the loo to tidy up a bit. And now she sits with her latte, pretending that this was what she meant to do all the time. And it is good, actually, to sit for a minute quite alone. The weekend was stressful: Natasha was friendly enough but the girls behaved as if they were there on sufferance so that there was a certain tension, and Jakey’s exuberant presence wasn’t helpful. Adam implied, privately, that Mo and Pa were too old to be looking after their great-grandson and she was rather sharp with him.
‘I’m here most of the time,’ she said. ‘Or he comes with me. And he’s nearly five. He’s not a baby.’
‘It occurs to me,’ he said, very smooth, very barbed, ‘that Clem should never have taken a job that puts so much pressure on Mo and Pa. At his age he should be self-sufficient.’
She stared at him. ‘Now I wonder why you’ve never mentioned that before,’ she said lightly. ‘Can someone else have put the thought into your mind, I wonder?’
He flushed angrily. He blushed easily and as a boy it had always embarrassed him and made him cross. Later he realized that it could be used to good purpose. The fair fine skin flooded with bright blood; the light, rather frosty blue eyes: the whole effect was rather frightening. Dossie was not frightened, however. She continued to watch him.
‘It’s not a new idea,’ he said. ‘You know my feelings perfectly well. Things are becoming too much for them.’
‘Pa and Mo love having Jakey, just as they loved having Clem. After all, they’re only going to have the one grandson and great-grandson, aren’t they? At least, that was the impression Natasha gave me.’
‘Are you thinking,’ he asked softly, ‘that you can go on living in The Court even after Mo and Pa die? Do you think that you can keep it as a home for Clem and Jakey, perhaps? Is that your plan? It won’t work, Dossie. Not unless you can afford to buy me out. Can you? After all, you’ve never had to pay your own rent or your own mortgage, have you? You’ve just coasted along, using Mo and Pa as a support team, and that’s what you want for Clem, isn’t it?’
Jakey and the dogs came in then, and Adam turned away and went out of the room.
Now, Dossie glances at her mobile and then puts it away in her bag, and when she looks up Rupert is there. Her heart does some odd little jumps but she smiles quite casually and she doesn’t speak until he’s ordered coffee.
‘You looked very serious,’ he observes. ‘Problems?’
‘Yes,’ she answers promptly, surprising herself. ‘Yes, my wretched brother is being a problem and I don’t know how to deal with him.’
He looks interested, sympathetic – and suddenly she begins to talk: to explain Adam and how he was born after several miscarriages and was a miracle baby: the longed-for son. As she talks, memories come rushing in: the places they lived in – South Africa, Western Australia – the long-haul flights back to school after the holidays.
‘Granny was still alive then at The Court,’ she says, ‘and I went to school in Truro so that she could take me out for exeats and come to athletics day and plays and things. Adam was such a funny little boy, very self-contained, very poised. I wasn’t jealous that he was still at home while I went off to school because I was six when he was born so I already had my own life going, if you see what I mean. I was old enough to be Mummy’s little helper and all that stuff. But I always looked forward to a time when we’d connect. I imagined it would be fun, this special sibling relationship.’ She shakes her head. ‘It never happened. I suppose the timing was all wrong. Six years is a big gap. When he was twelve and I was eighteen, Pa retired. They were still quite young but I think they’d got fed up with the travelling. He was with Rio Tinto Zinc. Granny died and he and Mo decided not to sell The Court but to live in it and do bed and breakfast to supplement his pension. For some reason, Adam hated it. He simply hated other people around and Pa cooking breakfast when he’d been a top mining engineer, with people like De Beers consulting him, and he and Mo travelling all over the world. It was as if it were all below Adam’s dignity. It got worse as he got older and he would never bring his friends home.’
She sits in silence for a moment, feeling slightly embarrassed at her outburst, wondering how Rupert will react or if he will tactfully change the subject.
‘I suppose,’ he says thoughtfully, ‘that it was difficult to admit to his friends that his father was no longer living, by the sounds of it, a rather dangerous and gl
amorous life but simply running a bed and breakfast establishment. You can imagine how he’d describe it, can’t you? Diamond mining; gold mining. For boys of that age status is everything, isn’t it? Rather sad for Pa and Mo, though.’
‘Well, it was,’ Dossie agrees, grateful for his understanding. ‘We all felt it, of course. It was as if he held us all at arm’s length, judging us, and he was ashamed of us …’ She says suddenly, and rather defiantly: ‘He’s a prig.’
Rupert begins to laugh. ‘Fair enough. But what is he doing just at this minute that is making him so particularly tiresome?’
She makes a face. ‘He thinks that Pa and Mo should move out. Downsize while they’re still young enough to cope with it.’
‘And then what? How does this affect him?’
She shrugs, hesitates. She feels she is being disloyal, telling him all these family things, and she wonders if, by becoming more intimate about her life, he might feel that she is trying to involve him more deeply.
‘Adam would feel safer if The Court was sold before Mo and Pa die. He’s terrified of me still being there and having some kind of right to stay there. You know, squatter’s rights or something. He’d rather they bought a much smaller place and tucked the money away somewhere.’
‘And where would you go?’
This is the question she dreads. She fears that he might think she is trying to see how the land lies with him or whether they have a future together.
‘Oh, I could always go to Clem while I got something sorted,’ she says casually. ‘That’s not a problem. No, the problem is that Pa and Mo don’t want to leave The Court. Pa grew up there; they both love it and it’s been in the family for generations. We used to come back to The Court for holidays when we were posted abroad, and Clem grew up there too, when my husband was killed. I told you about that. It’s a real family home. I want them to stay there but Adam suspects my motives and he unsettles Pa and Mo and makes them feel frightened. He’s been down this weekend questioning them about their wills and making them miserable.’
‘That’s horrid. But surely he’s crazy to suggest selling anyway in this market. Didn’t you tell me that he and his partner are estate agents? They must know that.’
‘Well, he’s cross they didn’t do it a couple of years back when Pa had the stroke. The truth is that they’re both so wound up about it now that it’s become a matter of principle. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Sorry.’ She smiles at him. ‘It’s just nice to talk to someone who isn’t involved. I seem to spend my time with you telling you my life history.’
‘But it’s a very interesting history,’ he says. ‘And I spend my time with you showing you my houses. At least I’m hoping you’ll come and see the cottage I’m working on sometime. I’ve put an offer in on the other one I showed you, by the way, so I’ll have to get a move on in case it’s accepted. Let me buy you another coffee and then we’ll make a plan.’
Driving home, Dossie is in a complete turmoil of emotions. Partly she is cross with herself for making him a present of her past just as she did at the farm shop. Yet he is so amazingly kind, and – much more important – he is so interested. It is years since anyone responded with such immediacy and warmth to her feelings and thoughts. And this time, when they part, he drops his arm very lightly round her shoulders and touches his warm lips to her cheek. It is all so quick, over in a second, but her cheek seems to burn and now, once or twice, she touches it with her fingers, laughing at herself for being such an idiot.
She can’t wait to see him again although she quite deliberately delayed the next meeting: she’s got a lot of work over Easter; she’s got Jakey to keep an eye on during the holidays; Mo and Pa … But they made a date and she is just so happy; she puts on her Joni Mitchell CD Both Sides Now and begins to sing along to ‘You’re My Thrill’.
Oh, God, she thinks. I’m falling in love with him.
* * *
Rupert gets into his car and checks his mobile: he’s missed a call but there’s a voicemail.
‘How are you?’ says Kitty’s voice. ‘It was a good weekend, wasn’t it? I’ll try again later.’
He phones back at once, waits for her to pick up. ‘Hi,’ he says warmly. ‘Yes, it was a very good weekend. Are you OK?’
‘Mmm. Just had coffee with Sally. She agrees with me that it’s time we took a break from the development business. She says it’s time we had some fun.’
Sally should mind her own business, but he doesn’t say so. He knows the rules about criticizing his wife’s closest friend and he knows too how much Sally and the tiresome Bill would love to make up a permanent four for golf and bridge and visits to the theatre. He shudders at the prospect.
‘I’m sure,’ he says cheerfully. ‘Did you book the theatre tickets?’
‘Yes.’ She’s distracted from the scent, as he hoped she would be. ‘Yes, she and Bill are free that evening and we’ll have supper together afterwards. I’ve organized the carer for Mummy.’
‘Great. Look, I must get on …’
‘Where are you?’
‘Bodmin. Just picking up some stuff. Those lovely Italian tiles I ordered have just come in.’
A sigh. ‘OK.’
He knows she wants to chat but he doesn’t feel guilty. He’s making real efforts just now to stay in touch, to dash up to Bristol midweek and at weekends, to keep her happy. Funny how he feels more energized when he’s got a flirtation on the go. It was very early on, once the bars of marriage had closed down around him, that he realized that there were still plenty of women out there who were quite happy to go along with a little bit of fun with no strings attached. They didn’t want to break up his marriage or have his babies, they just wanted some excitement – and he was ready to provide it.
He could tell straight away who were the ones who understood the rules, and only once has he misjudged the situation. He had to do some very fast talking on that occasion. As he puts away the mobile in the glove compartment he makes a little face, remembering. The girl turned up at the cottage he and Kitty were renovating and made a scene. He wormed his way out of it somehow but it put Kitty on her guard and since then he’s been careful, very careful. He loves Kitty and he doesn’t want to lose her. She is his wife and everything else is nothing but a bit of fun. It has nothing to do with his marriage. The simple fact is that he likes women; he enjoys their company and likes to go to bed with them. Some men need to buy a new flashy car every year or wear designer clothes or a Rolex watch that’s cost thousands. Rupert doesn’t care about any of those things. He simply likes the thrill of the chase; the sheer fun of move and countermove, and the final capitulation – as long as both parties understand the rules.
As for Dossie … he smiles at the thought of her. She’s a sweetie but not his usual kind of woman. The important thing is not to rush her; play it carefully. Usually he doesn’t bother with women like Dossie. He leaves them well alone and goes for the easier option. The trouble is he can’t quite get her out of his mind: she’s under his skin. He starts up the engine, pulls out of the car park, humming the Cole Porter number, feeling happy.
PENTECOST
‘WHAT’S HAPPENING?’ JANNA asks Clem. ‘Why have we both been invited to the Chapter meeting this morning? Are we going to get the sack?’
‘It doesn’t seem likely that we’d get the sack when there’s so much to be done and nobody else to do it.’
They stand together, near the caravan door; both of them puzzled and anxious. The orchard is full of bluebells, the ancient trees standing ankle-deep in a lagoon of shining blue. Somewhere above their heads swifts race, screaming.
‘What would you do?’ she asks. ‘If we had to go, I mean.’
Clem takes a deep breath; he stares upwards between the leaves, wondering how to answer.
‘It sounds crazy but it’s not something I’ve ever thought about. Not in that way. I’ve wondered whether I should start my training again and hope to be put forward for ordination but I’ve been so busy thi
nking about that – apart from the work here – that it’s never occurred to me that I might simply have to pack up and leave. I believed … that I was led here.’ He hesitates but he knows that Janna will understand; she won’t mock or deride his feeling. ‘It seemed so right; everything fell so perfectly into place. It seems … well, impossible that we, Jakey and I, should be suddenly set adrift. Again.’
His jaw clenches and she sees the muscle moving in his cheek. He looks angry and confused, and she feels even more frightened.
‘You could go to Dossie, couldn’t you?’ She speaks timidly. ‘Just for a bit. And, anyway, it might be nothing. Just a kind of check-up on things. Like how we’re coping and how we see things going forward.’
‘It didn’t sound like that, though, did it? I felt that Mother Magda waited until she’d got us both together at a busy moment so that there wasn’t an opportunity for us to question her. She looked a bit fraught.’
Janna nods. ‘And ’tis short notice, too.’
Clem looks down at her; suddenly his narrow blue-brown eyes crease in amusement and he seems to throw off his fear. ‘She didn’t want us to be doing this, that’s why. Huddling together trying to guess what it’s all about.’
Janna feels better at once. ‘It’ll be all right. ’Course it will. Father Pascal hasn’t said anything, has he?’
Clem shakes his head. ‘I’m not sure that means much, though.’ He looks at his watch. ‘Shall we go, then? It’s nearly time.’ He laughed. ‘It’s like having to go and see the Head, isn’t it?’
She nods, biting her lips, taking courage from his cheerfulness. ‘Come on, then. Let’s hope ’tis only detention.’
In the library, chairs have been set in a semi-circle around a little table. Mother Magda puts some papers on the table and glances doubtfully at Father Pascal.
‘It’s quite right that they should be included,’ he says, interpreting her look. ‘It is the right decision. Sister Ruth isn’t seeing it quite clearly. It’s only fair that Clem and Janna know the score. You depend upon them – and they might have something valuable to add to the discussion. Maybe not immediately, of course, but Sister Emily has the root of it in her. We are all joined on this journey and each of us has a contribution to make towards it.’
The Christmas Angel Page 10
