“Donald would have liked this,” Mary added. “He loved folk music.”
“And Russell?”
“Oh, now, Russell would have adored those two women. Really very, very good, they were. I heard her husband several times, you know; he was one of the greats. I remember one night he was on at Ronnie Scott’s. I so wanted to go, but Donald hadn’t been well. He always was inclined to chest trouble, you know. I think it was being in that prisoner-of-war camp in Italy for so long.”
“I didn’t know he was a prisoner of war.”
“Oh, yes, he was. For over a year. Terrible conditions, they didn’t get nearly enough to eat, and in the winter they were always cold. When he finally got home, he seemed to have shrunk, skin and bone and somehow shorter and this terrible cough. But… we fed him up and the doctor told him he should spend as much time as possible in the fresh air. He got an allotment and it did him so much good. It works a kind of magic, gardening does.”
“What a time you all had of it,” said Maeve. “My grandparents got off pretty lightly, I think. My grandfather was too old to be called up.”
“Yes, it was hard. But you know, it toughened us.”
“Indeed it seems to have. And you’d never have met Russell without it.”
“Indeed. And missed out on so much happiness. Oh, now, Georgia, dear, how lovely to see you.”
“Abi said you were all here.” Georgia bent and kissed her. “Enjoying yourself?”
“So much. Aren’t we, Maeve?”
“Where are the boys?”
“On that carousel for the fourth or is it the fifth time,” said Maeve, “and they’ve all had their faces painted, and Liam has made a fine willow basket. It’s such a success, Georgia. I do congratulate you.”
“I didn’t do much. It’s Abi who’s made it happen. Is Tim around?”
“He certainly is,” said Mary. “He and Lorraine brought me over. They think it’s wonderful.”
“You’ve got a grandstand seat up here, haven’t you?”
“We have indeed,” said Maeve. “And we’re about to open our thermos of tea. Would you join us, Georgia?”
“Oh… no. That’d be lovely, but I promised Abi I’d go back down. Some television company has turned up now-we’ve done so well for publicity-and they want to… well to…”
“To have you on, I’m sure,” said Mary. “Of course. The festival celebrity.”
“Mary, hardly. There are masses of celebrities here. Some really well-known musicians. Very small beer, I am.”
“Somehow I don’t think so,” said Mary. “Very few who’ve been on TV at peak viewing time. I felt so proud of you, dear.”
“Well… that’s very nice. Look… I’ll be back later. How long do you think you’ll stay?”
“Well, certainly for another hour. And then we’ll probably set out for home. They’re all coming back to Tadwick for the night.”
“Patrick has his fine new job now, you know…”
“Really? I’m so pleased. I didn’t know.”
“Yes, he’s office manager of a haulage company,” said Maeve, “and even better, he’s to be based in Reading, so that we can all see one another very much more easily, and Mary comes up most nearly every weekend at the moment, to help and to babysit, so that Patrick and I can go out for an hour or two now and again.”
“That sounds lovely. I’m so pleased. Look, I must go, Abi’s waving at me. I’ll come back later, promise.”
“Don’t worry too much, dear. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”
“I’m going down to find the boys,” said Maeve. “They’ll be sick if they have any more rides on that thing, on top of those burgers and the candy floss. Patrick has no idea how to refuse them anything. I won’t be long, Mary.”
“No hurry,” said Mary. “I’m very happy.”
And she was. She sat, looking down into the golden evening at the little families wandering about, smiling, holding hands; at the young couples, arms around one another; at the lights of the little roundabouts and the small old-fashioned carousel turning so tirelessly; at the stage with the small figures playing on it, beside their larger selves on the screens; at the hundreds of tents, snuggled down into the grass, barbecues smoking gently; at the lovely evening-blue July sky, a few clouds drifting across it streaked with the sunset; and she felt an immense gratitude all of a sudden, and thought how blessed she had been in her life, her long, mostly uneventful life, to have loved and been loved so much and known so much happiness, in spite of the sadness that she had had to bear. One could not ask more than this, she thought: to be in a beautiful place, on a beautiful evening, surrounded even now by people she loved and who cared for her, and with a head full of memories, wonderful, charmed memories, and not one of them bitter, or angry, or ugly in any way. If her two husbands-both of whom she had loved so much and been so happy with-could be aware of her happiness now, they would be well pleased. And somehow, this evening, looking at the sky and the dusk just beginning to appear above the sunset, she felt it was very possible they were.
***
Laura was sitting on the sofa with Daisy, watching the evening news, when the announcer suddenly said, “And now, as some properly seasonal weather seems finally to have arrived, and with more of the same promised for days to come, we take you over to one of those great icons of summer, a music festival. A rather special festival, one created for charity, in aid of the victims of the M 4 crash late last summer, and for the hospital that cared for them. The brainchild of two of the people involved, although not hurt, in the crash, Abi Grainger and Georgia Linley-you may remember Georgia from Moving Away, the haunting Channel Four drama early this spring-they conceived it, nurtured it, and brought it to life today. It is being held, indeed, on the farm of William Grainger, on whose land the air ambulance landed that day, and who, incidentally, married Abi just three months ago. Isn’t that right, Abi?”
And there she was, Laura thought, waiting to feel all the ugly, angry things for this girl, this beautiful, sexy girl, in spite of her generosity towards her in the courtroom, this girl, smiling at the camera, laughing, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and hugging the arm of her husband and saying, “Yes, that’s right, and none of this could have happened without the generosity of William and his parents in allowing it to be held on their land.”
“I imagine it could all have been pretty alarming to someone not used to these things,” said the interviewer, a rather uneasy-looking young man, dressed for some reason all in black.
“Oh, it was pretty alarming to all of us, used to them or not. Including William’s cows. But it’s all turned out brilliantly; we’ve earned shi-huge loads of money for the charity, and any minute now one of the newest, most exciting bands in the country is going to play So… go, BroadBand, go. And anyone in the vicinity, it’s not too late; come on down and join us. Thanks. Thank you so much.”
And funnily enough, Laura didn’t feel anything ugly at all, just a wave of relief that it was all finally over, the sadness and the bitterness, and a certain admiration for the new young Mrs. Grainger, who could so successfully turn tragedy into at least some kind of triumph.
“That looks fun,” said Daisy, looking rather wistfully at the camera, which was weaving now among the crowds, the bizarrely dressed young, fairies, nuns, angels, all dancing in the semidarkness, the children dancing too in circles, in and out of the tents and the barbecues, holding hands, and, “Look, there’s a whole family dancing there, and they’ve got sparklers, see? I wish we could go to a festival, Mummy; I’d really love that.”
“We will go, darling. Together. I’d like it too.”
It was Jonathan; he had come into the room and was standing beside the sofa, one hand on Laura’s shoulder. “If Mummy would like that.”
“Mummy would like it,” said Laura, not looking at him. “Maybe not that one, but…”
“No,” he said, “not that one,” and bent and kissed the top of her head. “All right?”
&nbs
p; “Yes, I’m all right,” said Laura. And realised that at last she was.
***
“You did a grand job with this, Abi.”
Abi turned; it was Jazz, Merlin’s hugely sexy friend. How they could be friends, she wasn’t sure; she couldn’t imagine two people more different, but then, people still kept saying that about her and William…
“Thank you. Yes, I’m pretty pleased. It was Georgia’s idea in the first place, you know.”
“I do know. Now, there’s a sweetheart. Too good for Merlin, I keep telling her.”
“Really?”
“Well, you know. He’s seriously in love with himself. I’m well fond of him-I’d say he’s one of my best friends-but a little of him goes a long way; know what I mean?”
“I… think so,” said Abi carefully. “But he’s awfully sweet.”
“Course he is. Just… knows it, that’s all. But he’s all right.”
“Um… is the recording OK?”
“Yeah, it’s fine, darling. Sid, me little brother, he’s keeping an eye on it. Or rather an ear. Better go and check on him, I s’pose. See you later.”
***
“Shit. Look at that.” It was Georgia, her small face near to tears.
“Now what?”
“Look at that. Merlin and Lila. They’ve been dancing for ages…”
“So?”
“What do you mean, so? He’s my boyfriend.”
“So?” said Abi again. “You’ve been complaining about him for weeks. And he’s only dancing with her, for God’s sake.”
“Oh, I know. I’m sorry. I guess I’m just… confused. We do squabble an awful lot these days. It’s so sad.” She sighed. “Abi, what’s wrong with me? I can’t get it together properly with anyone. Even someone as lovely as Merlin.”
“I don’t know why you want to,” said Abi. “Half the country’s in love with you.”
“Oh, don’t be so ridiculous.”
“Yes. They are. You’re famous. What you’ve always wanted. You’ve got an incredible time ahead of you; you’ll probably be in Hollywood next…”
“Oh, right…”
“You will. You know what it is with you, Georgia? You just want so much. Fame, success, all that stuff. And you’re beginning to get it. Why don’t you just settle for that for a bit? Forget about lurve. You don’t have to marry Merlin, for God’s sake; you can just enjoy him. And then… well, let ‘then’ take care of itself. I would.”
“I s’pose you’re right,” said Georgia slowly. She sighed. “I do feel I’ve come rather a long way. Since I first set eyes on Merlin, fell in love with him.”
“You have. You’ve dealt with so much crap, had all this success; make the most of it. It may not last. And then you’ll kick yourself that you didn’t enjoy it more.”
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, Abi. I’ve been a pain. As usual.”
“Well, that’s why we love you,” said Abi, grinning at her. “We’re used to it anyway. Oh, hi, Jazz. Everything OK?”
“Everything’s fine, yeah. Sid’s doing a good job. This is a great night, Abi. Congratulations are in order. Wondered if you’d like to come down and have a quick dance, Georgia.”
“I’d love to.”
“Right-o. Mind you, I’m a terrible dancer…”
“I’m sure you’re not.”
“Darlin’, I am. Not like our Merl. I know me limitations. Don’t mean I don’t enjoy it, though. Come on, then.”
He was all right, Abi thought, smiling, watching them go off. Dead sexy, funny, cool, with none of Merlin’s intense self-regard. Much more suitable for Georgia, really. Now she was doing it, trying to get Georgia settled. She shouldn’t be settled; she was a wild card, a loose cannon; she needed to make her own way. And she would. She really would.
***
“Right,” said Linda. “I’ve got a tent.”
“You haven’t.”
“Yes, I have. Look, it cost me fifteen quid, just like Abi said. Where shall we put it up?”
“There’s no room for it anywhere. You’ll be able to hear everybody else breathing, wherever it goes. Linda, do let’s leave and go to the hotel.”
“I don’t want to. I’m having an adventure. We’re having an adventure.”
“Oh, for God’s sake. The music, if you can call it that, is ghastly; it’s getting cold; I’m tired…”
“OK. You go. That’s fine.”
“You can’t stay here on your own,” said Alex irritably.
“Yes, I can. I’ll be fine.”
“Linda, you are not staying here on your own.”
“Well, I’m not leaving.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why do you have to be so bloody… dramatic?”
“I’m not being dramatic. I’m just entering into the spirit of the thing. Which, considering your hospital is going to benefit so much, I’d have thought you should too. You’re such a killjoy, Alex. You really are.”
“Well, thanks for that.”
He’d been waiting for her, not far from where Mary had been, on the far side of the small valley. He sat down in the grass, glared gloomily down at the arena.
“You know, sometimes I wonder if this is worth it.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“Well… we only see each other for two days a week, sometimes less, the occasional evening, and when we do we fight. Where’s the joy in that?”
“I… don’t know. What are you trying to say?”
“That this is hardly an ideal existence, simply being together at the weekends. Maybe we should try again to find somewhere we can live together. Or… even… call it a day.”
“Do you really want to do that? Call it a day?” There was a shake in her voice.
He looked at her, put out his hand, and took hers.
“No, of course not. I love you far too much. But… this isn’t working terribly well, is it?”
There was a long silence; then she said, “No. Not terribly. Um… Alex…”
“Yes?”
“I… well, actually, I have been thinking maybe I could… after all… move out a bit. Say to Windsor.”
“I hated Windsor. Maidenhead was OK.”
“I loathed Maidenhead.”
“Well, clearly we’ll be settled in no time. But… why, suddenly?”
“Well… I think I could possibly run my business at least two days a week from farther out. I mean, I can always go in for meetings. And keep the office on. What would you think about that?”
“Well… I’d think it would be amazing. Wonderful. But I don’t believe it. It’s a bit like Cherie Blair or Lady Thatcher suddenly announcing a woman’s place was in the home.”
“Don’t compare me to those awful women.”
“Sorry.”
“Anyway I think you might have to. Believe it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was… well, I was sick this morning.”
“Poor darling. You’re obviously run-down.”
“And the morning before. And the one before that.”
“Oh, dear.” He was rummaging in the picnic basket. “I’m sure there was some wine left.”
“Alex! God, you medics are all the same. So unsympathetic. Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“Yes, of course I did. You said you’d been sick this morning.”
“Yes, and the two mornings before that.” So…?
“For Christ’s sake. So… I think I might be pregnant. Well, I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant. Actually.”
“You what?”
“Alex, you’re not deaf yet. I said I was pregnant.”
“Oh, my God,” he said, staring at her, his face frozen with shock. “God. Linda. Oh, my Linda.” He sat staring at her, then put out his hand and stroked her cheek. Very gently. “How did that happen?”
“Usual way, I suppose.”
“Yes, but…”
“I had that stomach upset last month, remember? Not good with the pill.”
/>
“Oh, my God.”
“So, are you pleased?”
“Oh, no,” he said, “I’m not pleased.”
“Oh. Well…”
“I’m ecstatic. Totally, gloriously ecstatic. It’s wonderful. Amazing. You?”
“I’m… moderately ecstatic. Bit thoughtful… I don’t know how I’ll do at it.”
“How you do at everything else, that’s how… Brilliantly. Oh, Linda, I’m so… so-” He stopped. He seemed near to tears. She smiled at him, leaned forward, kissed him.
“I’m glad you’re pleased.”
“I’m… well, I’m much, much more than pleased. How do you feel, though?”
“Fine. Except in the morning. As you’ll probably find out tomorrow. Oh, and tired. Bit tired.”
“We must get you back to the hotel straightaway.”
“Alex, I don’t want to go back to the hotel. I want to stay here, in this tent… with you.”
“Oh, don’t be so ridiculous.”
“Please,” she said, and even in the darkness he could see her eyes shining. “Please. For a little while, anyway. Go on, Alex. I dare you.”
***
“Well, Abi, what a success, eh?” It was Peter Grainger, smiling at her. “I take my hat off to you. It was quite something, but you’ve pulled it off. And so far… no problems.”
“No, not yet,” said Abi. “Don’t speak too soon.”
“Oh, I have total faith in you. You and your arrangements. I must admit I had my doubts, but I was wrong. Where’s young William?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I haven’t seen him for ages. Um… where’s… um, Pauline?”
She still had the utmost difficulty in referring to Mrs. Grainger by her Christian name.
“She’s in bed, I’m afraid. Eaten something very nasty. Keeps being sick. And… well, never mind. I’m sure she’ll be better tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s terrible,” said Abi. “I’m so sorry.” Thinking of her silent prayer of the morning and wondering if the God she so firmly didn’t believe in had actually sent Mrs. Grainger’s illness as a sign to her of His existence.
The Best Of Times Page 59
