by Fanny Blake
Halfway down the corridor to the stairs, Rose had second thoughts. She was so confused and upset, so unsure of the right way to handle her discovery. If she was right, if Daniel was having an affair, she didn’t trust herself to be alone with him just yet. Not even to discuss Jess. She was frightened of what she might blurt out in the heat of the moment, and worse, of what he might say in reply.
Instead she turned in to the small studio room where she kept all her painting materials. She stripped off, hung her shift on the back of the door and put on the smock and skirt that hung beside it. She found a talismanic comfort in their familiarity and would draw or paint in nothing else. She picked up a large sketchpad and her bag, put on her hat and left the house.
She heard the sound of voices by the pool. Terry and Eve. Bickering probably. Their relationship seemed to flourish on their differences, a way of relating that Rose couldn’t imagine for herself. From the outside, their marriage couldn’t be more different from hers and Daniel’s. But now she wasn’t sure any more. An undertow of sadness tugged at her, that and fear of the future. Nothing would be the same now.
The path took her along the track that ran between fields of dying sunflowers, their large blackened heads turned away from the sun, hanging dejected towards the ground, their leaves pale and wilting. But she was oblivious to her surroundings until she passed the field containing rows of glittering black solar panels. Just beyond them she turned up the hill, past a narrow vineyard, to the edge of a small oak wood. There the track became a narrow path, less stony underfoot, that she followed up and round the edge of the trees till she reached a clearing where the treeline drew back behind a patch of rocks. This was where she always came when she needed time out, rediscovering it with every change of season.
From this vantage point she could see down the valley to vineyards like perfect corduroy, and two old farmhouses basking in the heat. In the distance, a small medieval hilltop village, its church spire marking the summit. The sound of children shouting carried up to her on the air, then the solemn tolling of the monastery bell – every hour on the hour. She settled herself on her favourite rock, the one that dipped against a taller one to make a natural seat, and took out her sketchbook, watercolours and paintbrushes.
Within ten minutes she was absorbed in capturing the landscape, the trees and the light and shade of the valley around her, as the sun began its slow descent. Daniel, their marriage, gradually retreated to the back of her mind as she concentrated on her painting. When the bell tolled the hour again, she came to, almost surprised at having cleared her mind so successfully. Six o’clock. Immediately her focus switched to home. Anna would be arriving soon, and she must be there to greet her. Daniel would be awake and wondering where she was. Then: Miss. Love. Come back. Each word a knife thrust to her heart.
She laid her pad on the ground beside her, her thoughts turning around her marriage again. But as she cleaned her brush, then threw out the coloured water from the jar, she identified an additional emotion to the disbelief, pain and confusion she’d experienced since the morning. The first stirrings of anger were adding themselves to the cocktail. After all these years, how dare he? After everything they’d been through together, Daniel was prepared to toss the whole lot away.
If she knew him at all, he’d be finding confession difficult. How long had it taken him to admit that he and Eve had been lovers, albeit briefly? He didn’t tell her that for one whole year. A year in which her friendship with Eve had been built on her ignorance. Eve had kept her silence too. By the time Daniel had finally admitted the truth of their relationship, all three of them and Will had become so close that Rose hadn’t wanted to unpick things. She loved Daniel and was confident he loved her. Eve was her closest friend by then and deep into her relationship with Will. If anything, sharing Daniel had brought them closer together. The deceit had only been for her benefit and their affair was in the past. Unlike this one. Well, so be it. She would wait until he had no option but to confess. And then she would be ready.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she started for home with a heavy heart. By the time she arrived, the others were on the terrace. She heard the click of dominoes, Eve’s voice and then Daniel’s laughter before she slipped into the house, dropped off her stuff in the studio and went up to their bedroom. Leaving her painting clothes on the bed, she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While the water warmed up, she brushed her teeth, staring at her reflection. A middle-aged woman stared back, although something of the tomboy that she had once been was still close to the surface: hair cut short to frame her face, skin freckled, and the beginnings of a few fine lines.
What did ‘S’ look like? she wondered, shivering slightly despite the heat. What sort of woman would have succeeded where she suspected many had failed? Her polar opposite? She ran through the sex goddess clichés: large, bosomy, fleshy arms and legs, big hair, large-featured, smoky eyes, bee-stung lips. Her breath caught as she pressed her own less generous ones together, watching her eyes well up. She looked away quickly and stepped into the shower, where the jets of water beat on her head, then her face, until she felt nothing but a deep, angry despair.
From the shower she went through to the wardrobe and ripped a choice of clothes off the hangers. What was appropriate for a wronged woman? Having chosen a pair of white linen trousers and an aquamarine T-shirt (as inappropriate as anything else she had), she replaced the rest, slid her feet into her sandals and returned to the bathroom, hand-drying her hair on the way. Just as she was putting on the merest hint of make-up – might as well remind him what he’d be missing – she heard the sound of the door opening. She braced herself.
‘Mum!’
Anna. She rushed through to the bedroom, and hugged her older daughter to her. ‘I didn’t hear the car.’ Then she pushed her away so she could see her. ‘You look so well.’
Anna’s dress sense was nothing if not idiosyncratic. Taller than her mother, she was wearing a long flounced flowery skirt, a skimpy top that emphasised her skinniness, and countless necklaces, and bracelets that clashed together every time she moved her arms. Her long dark hair was pulled back and fastened behind her head with a hibiscus flower clasp. Her face was pale, elfin-like in its sharp lines. A pink sapphire nose stud drew attention to the curve of her nostril.
‘And you look, well . . . I don’t know. The same as usual, I guess.’
Rose laughed. ‘Have you seen the others?’
‘Of course not. I wanted to see you first and I guessed you might be here. Pre-drinks shower and all that.’ She hadn’t forgotten the family routines that had ingrained themselves over the years.
‘You know me too well.’ Rose took her hand. ‘Let’s join them. Oh!’ She lifted Anna’s once pretty hand to the light, now with nails bitten down to the quick. ‘I’m not sure about that one. Dad’ll hate it.’
‘Too bad.’ Anna twisted her wrist to admire the large silver ring in the shape of a skull that covered the whole of the lowest section of her middle finger. ‘I’m thirty, for God’s sake. My life. Remember?’
‘I know.’ Rose pretended resignation. ‘Come on then. I’ve so much to ask you.’
‘Uncle Terry here? And Eve?’ Anna sat on the edge of the bed, rattling her bangles up and down her wrist.
‘Of course. I’m sure I told you they were getting here before you. Eve’s in a state because her case hasn’t arrived.’
Anna smiled, knowing too well the hoo-ha that would involve. ‘You probably did, but I forgot. I was hoping to catch Dad on his own before they got here.’ She looked up at her mother, lifting a hand to her mouth and scraping the top of her thumbnail on a front tooth – a nervous habit.
Rose resisted saying anything. She’s not a child any more. She’s a grown woman.
‘Still, I’ll find my moment.’
There was something in Anna’s eyes that worried Rose. She must want to wheedle something out of Daniel that she knew he wouldn’t easily give. Again. Rose put
a hand out to still the clatter of the bangles. She wouldn’t ask. Easier to deal with the request when it came, rather than anticipate the worst. Her thumb traced the faint but unmistakable white scars that marked Anna’s forearm.
Anna snatched her arm away, strategically rearranging the bangles. ‘Have they started arguing yet?’
‘Anna, really!’ Rose tried to sound disapproving. ‘They’re not that bad.’
‘Yes they are. They’re always bickering. At least you and Dad have never been like that.’
‘Some people get on best when they’re arguing. The bad times make the good times better.’ She wasn’t sure that was what she really believed. ‘Who knows what makes a marriage tick? Not even the people involved . . .’ She left the sentence unfinished.
‘Mum!’
Anna’s voice brought her back to her senses, reminding her that she mustn’t let her guard slip. ‘What?’ she said quickly. Her daughters must know nothing until she and Daniel had sorted things out.
‘That’s very philosophical for a Monday night.’ Anna looked perplexed, as if wondering what had come over her mother.
‘You know me, darling. Full of surprises.’ Rose stood up, fighting a pressing desire to run away. ‘Come on, they’ll be wondering what’s happened to me. And you must say hello.’
‘Make my entrance, you mean?’ Anna laughed. ‘If you insist.’ And she followed her mother from the room.
4
‘You’re being so obstructive, Dad.’ Anna put down her glass and swept her hair back over her shoulder, shaking her head so it fell straight. The hibiscus clasp lay discarded on the table. ‘You know you want Jess here as much as we do. It’s not going to be the same without them. Just call her.’
Daniel looked up from his fig tart, putting down his spoon. His eyes widened slightly under the frown, surprised at someone disagreeing with a decision he’d made. ‘Anna, you don’t know what you’re talking about. Adam refused the work I offered him.’ His voice was quiet but firm as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘If Jess chooses not to come here as a result of what was said, that’s her business.’ His foot tapped on the floor. Just once. Then again. He scratched behind his ear.
The five of them sat at one end of the large farmhouse table on the terrace, sheltered by the vine-clad pergola. A shaft of light beamed through the open kitchen door, but too far away to illuminate the table. Instead, the outdoor light over the sitting room door added to the light of the candles. Rose and Anna had made a chestnut and butternut risotto, followed by saltimbocca alla Romana, delicate veal scaloppini with prosciutto and sage, all pronounced excellent by the others. Until now, the atmosphere had been convivial, relaxed.
Rose recognised the warning signs and stepped in swiftly. ‘I’ll talk to her,’ she said. ‘I’ll explain and then they’ll be on that plane as planned.’
Eve yawned. ‘Well one of you should do something, or you’ll miss the boat altogether.’ She laughed at her rather feeble joke, apparently heedless of the stony silence into which she’d dropped it. ‘Or the plane – just like my wretched case!’ she added.
Sometime before dinner, Terry had spent an hour on the phone trying to trace the missing luggage. For some reason, it had been rerouted to Rome. The airline had promised to deliver it the next day. In the meantime, Eve was making do with what she could borrow. At the moment she was sporting a generously cut dress of Rose’s in fine blue-and-green striped jersey; a much more casual look than she was used to.
Beyond the terrace, down past the pool, the land fell away into the valley towards the inky silhouettes of distant hills pricked with orange and white lights marking out villages or lone farmhouses. The candle flames flickered in the breeze sending shadows slipping across their faces. Rose pulled her pashmina tighter around her shoulders.
Daniel pushed his chair back, noisy on the stone. ‘I’ve got a couple of emails to deal with, if you’ll all excuse me. See you in the morning.’
As he disappeared inside, the four of them looked at one another. It was unlike him to leave a gathering early. Rose speculated miserably on the reasons why, but said nothing. Instead, she took a deep breath, hoping to suppress the anxiety that had formed like a marble in her throat. The family had been together for less than twenty-four hours, and nothing was as she’d imagined it.
At least Daniel’s absence meant that any row over Adam had been averted before the red light blazed and the rest of them were forced to run for cover. The worst of Daniel’s rages were reserved exclusively for his family. Outsiders were rarely exposed to them.
Rose pushed away her half-eaten pudding.
‘Go after him, Mum. Now’s your moment.’
That spell in therapy had led Anna to believe that she knew what made other people tick, and that gave her the authority to tell them what to do. But Rose, Eve and Terry knew better than anyone how mercurial Daniel’s moods could be. Quick to come and quick to go, but best avoided.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. You know what he’s like. If I go now, he’ll only get more entrenched. We’ll leave it till the morning.’
‘Adam might not be the husband Dad would have chosen for Jess, but he ought to at least give him a chance.’ Anna took a small blue tobacco pouch out of her bag. ‘I’m never going to get married, if this is what he’s going to be like.’
‘Anyone on the scene?’ Eve leaped at a change of subject.
Rose gave silent thanks for her sister-in-law’s insatiable curiosity.
‘Hardly.’ Anna grinned as she unfolded a Rizla. ‘I’ve been seeing a guy who works in the City, but it was never going to work. He’s well into his suits, his cars and owning property. He’s even in a choir, and he’s not even thirty-five. And I’m . . . well, I’m not like that. He hated the way I dress and we had different opinions on everything.’ She looked thoughtful. ‘In fact it’s a bit of a mystery how we got together in the first place. The sex was pretty good, I guess.’ She shredded some tobacco on to the paper and rolled herself the meanest cigarette Rose had ever seen. She’d prefer Anna not to share quite so much of her personal life at the supper table.
Eve laughed. ‘Sounds like just the sort of guy that Dan would love for his daughters.’
‘Oh, please.’ Anna took her lighter from her bag. ‘A lifetime of missed opportunity, chained to a kitchen sink, clearing up after our snotty kids and hanging on to his arm at office dos. No thank you.’ She pretended to make herself vomit.
Rose was painfully aware how closely the description fitted her own married life, a life about which, until this morning, she had had no complaints. ‘Anna, don’t.’ She grasped her daughter’s wrist and pulled her hand away from her mouth, then clasped it in her own. ‘That’s disgusting.’
‘Only to you, mother dear.’ Anna wiped her hand on her skirt and lit her cigarette, the loose shreds of tobacco glowing before they flew into the night.
Rose didn’t need to remind everyone why she’d reacted as she had. Those days when Anna’s departure from the table at the end of a meal was immediately followed by the slam of the bathroom door, then the distant flushing of the toilet, were – thank God – a thing of the past. But Rose remembered them clearly, them and the crushing anxiety and sense of powerlessness that used to be her daily companions. Was there anything worse than your child’s life being under threat from an illness you had no power to heal? If there was, she couldn’t imagine it. Nothing Dan could do would hurt her as badly as that.
Terry coughed.
‘And to you then, Uncle Terry. Sorry. But Eve doesn’t mind, do you, best aunt?’
‘Only aunt,’ Eve corrected proudly. ‘But if that’s how you feel, how’s the rest of your life going to pan out?’
Anna filled her glass with water. ‘Oh, I’ve got plans. Men are on hold at the moment while I get things off the ground.’ A secretive look crossed her face, swiftly replaced by a worrying (to those who knew her) beam.
‘Really? Need any help?’ Ter
ry could be relied on to join in when the conversation took a business turn. He wasn’t an easy conversationalist in company, never had been. He preferred things one to one. That was something that he and Rose did have in common, although she had learned to be more gregarious.
‘Maybe eventually, but not yet. First I’ve got to convince Dad of their brilliance. And no . . .’ She looked towards her mother; Rose was bristling with alarmed interest, aware that if she expressed it, Anna would just clam up. ‘I’m not going to tell you anything until they’re more definite. You mustn’t mention anything to Dad just yet. I’m going to grab him tomorrow when he’s in a more receptive mood.’
Rose felt Eve squeeze her thigh under the table. Eve knew Daniel as well as anyone, and like Rose, she knew what sort of response Anna was likely to provoke if she asked for money again. Rose groped for her sister-in-law’s hand and squeezed back, grateful to have an ally who understood.
‘But it’s Eve’s birthday,’ she said, grasping at the excuse. ‘And we’re going to Arezzo.’
‘That’s in the morning.’ Nothing would stop Anna when her heart was set on something. ‘I’ll find a time and then we can celebrate doubly in the evening.’ She clapped her hands. ‘You’re going to be so excited.’
‘I hope so.’ Another squeeze from Eve. The list of other great ideas that had so rapidly transformed into disasters was already running through Rose’s mind. Every time Daniel had supported Anna in one of her ventures – the market stall, importing carpets from Morocco, the café– he was the one who came out the loser. Whatever the reason – bad timing, or Anna’s loss of interest – every foolproof project designed to make father and daughter so much money hit the buffers one after another. After the café, Daniel had sworn he’d helped her out for the last time, and that was when she’d taken up gardening, tutoring children in English, maths and French to finance the horticulture course.
