‘Luisa, where are you? I haven’t got time to sort that van of yours today, I’m afraid. Too much marking. It’ll have to wait.’
Tom’s voice over her shoulder made her jump. She wiped the mud off her hands and onto her skirt. Tom had a pair of glasses propped on his forehead, and was holding a sheaf of papers and chewing a pen. She shoved the mobile back into her bra and straightened her clothes.
She tried to keep disappointment out of her voice. ‘That’s a shame. I was secretly hoping to give it an airing at the cricket match next weekend.’
Tom hadn’t heard. ‘The good news is I think I’ve broken the back of this marking,’ he said. ‘They’ve done all right this year, must’ve pitched the questions better. Thank God.’
He rolled the papers up and put them in the pocket of his jacket. ‘What are you two up to? Am I needed?’ He took the jacket off, tossing it into the garden shed. In some compartment of her head, Luisa stored this information, knowing there would be a panic before school on Monday with Tom searching high and low for his lost marking. Every husband had his foibles, and Tom’s was chaos. It could have been so much worse, she thought. He would never have an affair, for example, or if he did, she would know immediately. Not for him a hidden phone, shredded receipts, secret texting. The sun went behind a cloud. Luisa blinked, a cuckoo, the first she’d heard, called from the wood across the road. Reality doused her, and she felt embarrassed by her silly texts. She passed Tom the hoe with a smile. ‘Weeding would be good. Luca’s supposed to be doing it, but—’ she shrugged.
‘I am doing it!’ protested Luca, stepping into the vegetable bed.
Luisa, feeling three was a crowd, stepped out, turning to Tom: ‘You know we’ve been asked to go for a drink—’
‘I should have a good case for some more excursions.’ Tom scraped the hoe across a nettle root and the fresh, damp smell pricked Luisa’s nostrils.
‘Mmm, I love the summer smells, you could eat all of them,’ she said. ‘I’m experimenting with a nettle and watercress sorbet as an intense version of a gazpacho. What d’you think, Tom?’
He was prodding the ground around the new seedlings, oblivious to the threat the hoe posed to the tiny plants. ‘Perhaps we can go to Italy next. It makes sense for the course,’ he mused.
Luisa pushed him away from her precious plants towards a flourishing patch of weeds. She hadn’t been joking when she’d told Dora no one listened. Literally none of her family ever took any notice of her. She tried again. ‘We’re going to meet our new neighbour tonight.’
Tom had bent to the hoe, jabbing the ground, slaying ragwort and thistles in a swathe as he outlined his plan. ‘We’ll investigate the Renaissance and explore your heritage, Tod.’ He touched her cheek with the back of his hand.
‘That’d be nice.’ What was the point in minding? Luisa sighed.
Tom ruffled her hair. ‘You’d come, wouldn’t you Tod? We’ll do it next Easter.’
Luisa nodded. ‘My mother will probably want to come.’
‘And me,’ said Luca.
Tom shrugged. ‘Why not? It might entertain Gina, culture-crossing and so on. Bring the family to work, or work to the family or whatever. Might be good to take her as our own personal guide.’ He walked to the end of Luisa’s row of seedlings. ‘It’s not straight you know.’
Luisa shrugged. Tom didn’t devote any time to appeasing his mother-in-law, it was a game he loved to play, a caricature situation. A light touch that was all that was needed.
‘You know Gina,’ she said. ‘She’s easy if you handle her right, you just don’t always bother. Your best hope with her is to show how much you love ice cream.’ Luisa smiled as she pulled off her gloves. ‘So, my darling,’ she said with mock severity, ‘better than planning a trip to Italy, how about you fix my ice-cream van?’ She stepped onto the path, ‘Oh, and Tom?’
Both Tom and Luca turned to look at her, a synchronised movement, a turn of the neck in tandem that showed their relationship more vividly than genetics.
‘We’re going to meet our new neighbour at the Lighthouse tonight. All of us. Don’t say I didn’t tell you.’
Tom shrugged, laughing with Luca. ‘I won’t, wouldn’t dare cross you. And I will sort that van of yours, I promise you.’
‘I’m going to call Dora. She wanted to meet him too.’
In the house, Mae was wandering around in her pyjamas.
‘Why aren’t you dressed?’ Luisa snapped. Mae had opened the fridge and was rooting around in the salad box at the bottom, her face lit an unhealthy green by the interior light.
‘You look ill, is that why you’re not up yet?’ That would be reasonable, Luisa thought.
Mae sighed, it was her usual response to comments from her mother. ‘I’m comfy, Mum. What do I need to dress for anyway? We’re not going anywhere, are we? Where’s your credit card? I need to give the number to Ellie and it’s not in your bag?’
‘You don’t need to give my number to anyone, Mae. Why does Ellie need it? Why doesn’t she ask me for it?’ Luisa rattled out the questions as she lifted a pile of straw baskets. ‘I had it yesterday when I bought the shopping.’ Mae was searching in the fridge. Not much chance of her finding it there. ‘I’d like to speak to Ellie, is she calling back?’
Mae watched her mother turn the baskets upside down. ‘I was trying to retrace your steps. I looked in the washing machine as well.’
She hitched herself up to sit on the counter, swinging her legs. Luisa could smell cigarette smoke in her hair. She decided to ignore it. Exhaustion hit her, she sat down, pressing her forehead with her palms. She couldn’t face a battle, and probably all fifteen-year-olds smoked. Not that that made it any better.
‘Mum, Ellie says I should go out and meet her in India after my exams and travel with her. She says we could go all around southern India for a couple of months. I could get some ideas for my textiles A level?’
Luisa leapt up as if she had been scalded. ‘What? Can we talk about this later? You’re fifteen years old, Mae, so it’s probably illegal for you to fly on your own that far. Of course you can’t go to India with Ellie. Just let me sort this thing out, hang on.’ She picked up her handbag and opened her wallet. ‘I bet it’s in here, it must be.’
Mae rolled her eyes and slid off the counter. ‘God, you’re so stressy, Mum. Ellie needs to book a flight. She’s going somewhere else in India. You can talk to her later.’
Luisa pulled out the card with a flourish. ‘Ah, found it!’ Why listen to children? Of course the bankcard was in her wallet all along. ‘You can tell Ellie that until I can have a chat with her I’m not happy to dish out flights all over the place, or to send you to India. And I miss her.’
Sudden tears flooded her eyes. Luisa turned to the sink and splashed her face with cold water. From behind her, Luisa felt Mae slide an arm around her waist and, without speaking, rest her cheek against her mother’s shoulder. Warmth, and Mae’s soft presence permeated her body. Luisa kissed her daughter’s hand, it smelled of oranges more than cigarettes. ‘Sorry, darling.’
‘Don’t cry, Mumma.’
Deep breathing. Hard not to feel as strung out as a washing line sometimes, but this was nice. Luisa leaned back against Mae. Her hair brushed Mae’s face, and she felt her breath on the back of her scalp. Luisa laughed shakily.
‘What’s happened to my littlest all of a sudden? You’re so grown up and thoughtful.’
Mae broke away. ‘Mum! I’m not little any more!’ She poured a glass of water and drank it, her eyes fixed on Luisa over the rim. The dip of concentration between her brows hadn’t changed. Time vanished. Mae absorbed in her world when she was a baby, a small child, a bigger girl, always with the beam of her gaze fixed, always determined. Luisa was glad it was still focused on her sometimes. Luisa blinked. Mae didn’t need to go to India. The fewer family members in India the better. Why couldn’t everyone just stay at home?
She mulled over her thoughts. A bit of guile never hurt any parent
ing situation. ‘Let’s think about it later,’ she said with deliberate vagueness. ‘Darling, will you help me make a cake quickly?’ It was usually best to appear to go along with all teenage plans, safe in the knowledge that for them to actually accomplish anything more arduous than getting out of bed and eating a bowl of cereal was almost impossible. True, Ellie had made it to India, but that was on a wave of action implemented by her whole academic year.
‘A cake? Hardly quick,’ Mae pouted, tossed her head, swinging her ponytail like a slingshot. She was only fifteen, she’d got lost cycling to Blythe last week because she’d been day-dreaming and turned the wrong way out of the gate at home, she was about to start a summer job making sandwiches in Nellie’s Bread Basket on Saturdays. All things considered, she was an unlikely prospect for travel to the Indian sub-continent at the moment.
‘It could be quick, we’ll do a broken biscuit with a few cherries. We’re going to see the man who’s moved into the Lighthouse, I thought it’d be friendly to take—’
Mae groaned. ‘Will there be anyone there my age?’
Luisa looked doubtful. ‘I don’t think so.’
Mae groaned again. ‘Do I have to come?’
Luisa put a wooden spoon on the table in front of Mae, and a bowl.
‘Luca’s coming. And we’ll go and see Grayson’s puppies on the way.’
Mae gave her mother a light shove as they both reached for the fridge door and the ingredients. ‘You may think you’re bribing me, but actually I’m making my own mind up,’ she said loftily.
‘Of course,’ agreed Luisa. ‘Pass me that jar will you?’
There was a festive slant to the evening as they drove along the coast to Kings Sloley. The puppies had been adored and even Tom had admitted he wouldn’t mind owning one. Cow parsley lining the verges, waving like a Jubilee crowd, and sun and sea met in a spill of halcyon gold to the horizon. ‘Mum, we didn’t call Ellie back about the ticket. Let’s Skype her later. She’s getting a tattoo done.’
‘A tattoo? You didn’t say anything about that.’ Luisa swivelled, Mae’s hair flowed smooth as a river and make-up sparkled around her eyes. ‘She hasn’t got one, has she?’
‘No. She wants to. She said she needs to ask you.’
‘Ask me? Hardy necessary. She knows exactly what I think.’
Mae sighed. ‘You’re so predictable, Mum! I said she shouldn’t bother, you’d just stress, but she went on about your approval mattering.’ Mae shrugged. ‘I don’t understand it.’
Luca’s arm was behind his sister across the back of the car seat. ‘Getting so grown up, Mae,’ he shook his head.
She prodded him. ‘You sound like a granddad. I was just thinking about whether I would tell Mum if I was having one done.’
‘Depends on the tattoo, I expect,’ said Tom, his eyes meeting his children’s in the rear-view mirror. ‘I’d be interested to see the design any of you’d like to live with for the next seven or so decades, I must say. Or would you go for “I love Mum”?’ He winked across at Luisa next to him.
Mae bounced on her seat, indignation squaring her shoulders. ‘Dad! What’re you talking about? It’d be really lame to have a tattoo that your parents actually liked.’
‘I’d have a lighthouse,’ said Luisa dreamily, as the road swooped over a hill and Kings Sloley appeared ahead of them.
‘Wouldn’t you have an ice cream, Mum?’ asked Luca.
Luisa shrugged. ‘You would think so, wouldn’t you, but look at that lighthouse, it’s incredible.’
They gazed for a moment at Kings Sloley Lighthouse, a striped candle, the flame of the glass on top caught by the sunlight. ‘It’s so joyful,’ said Luisa.
Mae shot her mother a speculative glance. ‘Can I actually get one?’
Luca laughed. ‘Great idea, sis. Why don’t you have a map, or the home postcode. Or Mum’s mobile number? That way you’ll be able to get home wherever you are.’
Mae dropped the veil of sophistication she’d applied with her make-up, and stuck her tongue out.
Tom fiddled with the radio. ‘There’s never any bloody reception around here. We should ask this new chap to get a mast up on the Lighthouse.’
‘Oh but phones work here,’ Luisa waved hers. ‘I’ve still got a signal, and the other day when I came to get the sheep Luca rang me.’
Tom raised his eyebrows. ‘You came to get the sheep? Where was Jason?’
Luisa sighed. ‘I knew you weren’t listening. His name is Kit Delaware. The sheep were right inside the Lighthouse when I got there.’
‘Oh, I knew that,’ Mae leaned forward between them, she smelled of mint and peaches, and her bracelets jangled. ‘It’s the guy we saw in Blythe the other day. Dora said so. Mum, I forgot to say she rang. She’s on a date tonight so she couldn’t come.’
‘Another one?’ Tom snorted. ‘Why does she have to go on so many dates? I don’t know where she finds the men to go with.’
‘Dad!’ Mae poked his shoulder, ‘That’s mean! She’s your sister. You’re as bad as Luca.’
‘She doesn’t really,’ Luisa caught Mae’s hand. It was light, the bones delicate as a bird. ‘It’s just that Maddie’s away, so it’s easier for her to go out than usual. She’s just having fun.’
Mae gasped. ‘Mum, you’re such a hypocrite, you haven’t ever in your life been on as many dates as Dora has in a week! You and Dad are both unborn as far as all this stuff goes.’
Luisa laughed. ‘Don’t show me up,’ she protested.
‘I’m amazed you aren’t trying to set her up with this Lighthouse bloke,’ Tom parked the car behind Kit’s.
‘Dora’s seen him. She thinks he’s hot, but I reckon he’s even older than you.’ Mae flashed a smile at Luisa that brimmed with mischief.
Tom wasn’t listening. He quickly got out. ‘Hey, Luca,’ he said. ‘Check out this car’ and they wandered ahead through the field towards the Lighthouse. Luisa hung back a little, checked her reflection in the wing mirror, balancing the broken biscuit cake as she fiddled with her hair. Her phone shook in her bag, quacking the arrival of a text and she jumped. Kit? Surely not? She felt suddenly foolish. Grown ups didn’t get excited about texts. Tom would be astonished if he knew.
Mae dug her with her elbow. ‘Mum! Stop it, you look like you’ve got nits when you pull your hair about, and the man can see you. Look!’
‘I think I have got nits,’ Luisa hissed back, and they laughed together.
Kit was shaking hands with Tom. ‘Hey, this is a surprise, you’re the pitstop man! My good Samaritan!’ They clapped each other noisily on the back.
‘Yes, and you’re the only breakdown I’ve ever helped with where I’ve talked about paintings,’ said Tom.
‘You’ve met?’ Luisa stared. She had to remind herself to shut her gaping mouth. How could Tom know Kit as well?
Tom reached out and hugged her towards him, laughing. ‘Yes, I clocked that car right away. Should’ve known it would be you. Small world and all that.’
Kit ushered them in. ‘A cake, wonderful, let me put it here.’
Luisa followed him through to the hall. A tang of woodsmoke and neroli hung around him. In his dark blue shirt, he seemed exotic, his skin appeared to have a lustrous sheen, his gait an easy energy. His watch threw a steel glint into the shadows. Luisa looked around her. Candlelight had transformed the austere, small-windowed rooms, and the crackle of the fire in the grate was a welcome touch of luxury on a summer night. Kit pulled the cork from a bottle and poured Luisa a glass of wine. His fingers touched hers and she jumped, spilling cold liquid across her wrist. A roar of heat flared up her body, and gratefully she pressed the glass to her burning cheek.
The rumble of Tom’s laughter recalled her.
‘So what on earth brings you to this unlikely spot? You’re not the average lighthouse keeper, or not around here at any rate.’
Luisa winced.
Kit didn’t answer immediately. ‘Someone else’s life,’ he said finally. ‘Or t
heir death, really. And a fair amount of confusion. I was left this place by my mother. Bit of a surprise, she’d never told me anything about it, or even so much as mentioned Norfolk.’
‘I’m sorry about your mother,’ Tom’s head was lowered as he spoke, moving his glass, watching the wine make a whirlpool.
‘Could we go up to the top?’ Mae and Luca bounded in, Mae waving her phone, ‘Look! I got some photos of my shadow on the Lighthouse, Luca took them.’ She broke off, finding herself directly in front of Kit. ‘Hi. I like your house – Lighthouse. Whatever! It’s really cool. I wish we lived here,’
Kit’s face lost years as he laughed. Luisa suddenly wanted to hug Mae.
‘You like it? I’m glad.’ He gestured to the stairs. ‘I haven’t counted the steps yet, but I think it’s over a hundred. Go wherever you like, and if you count them, come back and tell us.’
Mae darted off, followed by Luca, who mouthed, ‘Nice to meet you’ as he vanished up the stairs. The echoes of their voices fell like soft petals into the evening.
Luisa shrugged and looked at Kit. ‘This is us,’ she said. ‘There’s one more in India.’
‘Right,’ Kit shook his head, laughing, ‘I didn’t know what to expect. They’re like puppies. So energetic.’
‘Not always,’ said Tom, drily. ‘Try our house tomorrow morning if you want to see them in their natural habitats – bed and piles of chaos.’
Kit picked up a case of beer, ‘I hope they like lager. I’ve got—’ he pulled himself up. ‘Oh Christ. Have I made a ricket of this? Are they old enough for beers?’
‘I’ll say so,’ Tom picked up a corkscrew and a bowl of ice.
‘I was waiting for the sheep.’ Kit said with a smile. ‘I thought you might have a few stray lambs with you tonight.’
He led the way out through the kitchen. Luisa swivelled, trying to take everything in as she and Tom followed. The strange curved spaces had been softened throughout. The candles, a wood fire dancing in the hall, a pile of books, a rug dropped on an armchair, a big oak chest, and a length of embroidered antique fabric tacked on to the wall, silver threads catching the dying light, gave the Lighthouse a sense of belonging to someone.
From a Distance Page 13
