Sins of the Fathers

by Anthea Fraser

  The drop in temperature was traumatic after the warmth of the train, but as they reached the car park his key set lights flashing on a grey BMW a few yards ahead of them and, as Danny was insisting Helena join him in the back, Mark settled gratefully into the warm passenger seat.

  ‘A heavy frost’s forecast for tonight,’ Sebastian remarked, sliding in beside him, ‘but with luck we’ll escape it on the coast.’

  ‘Has everyone else arrived?’ Helena asked from the back seat.

  ‘Yep; the parents have been here a few days, organizing things. Danny and I flew up this afternoon with Harry and Jess, then waited at the airport till Nat and Nick’s plane landed, to save Dad a double journey.’

  ‘What’s he like, this Nick?’ Helena enquired curiously.

  ‘Seems a decent guy. Fellow medic.’

  Mark had learned from her brief outline that Helena’s sister was a GP, one of her brothers a solicitor and the other in civil engineering, but his tired brain couldn’t recall which was which. He leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, letting the exchange of family gossip wash over him. The warmth of the car, the gentle rhythm of its passage and the low hum of conversation combined to lull him into semi-consciousness, and the complications of his life, temporarily displaced by the unexpected turn of events, flooded back into his brain.

  Who had he been fooling? he thought wearily. All right, so he’d escaped for the moment but eventually he’d have to go back to find the same problems awaiting him. God, how had he got himself into this mess? If this was what came of doing a good turn, he’d make damn sure he never did another.

  He must have dropped off, because the next thing he was aware of was the cessation of movement, and he jerked awake to find the car at a standstill outside a solid stone house.

  The front door was immediately flung open and a woman stood outlined against a background of light. Struggling back to consciousness, Mark fumbled clumsily with his seatbelt, wincing at the draught of freezing air as Sebastian got out and opened the boot to retrieve their luggage. Then, having claimed his own case, he followed Helena and Danny up the steps to the open doorway, where Helena was enfolded in a warm embrace.

  ‘And this is Adam, Mum,’ she said, extricating herself, and Mrs Crawford turned smilingly to him.

  ‘Welcome, Adam! Perhaps I may hug you too, to welcome you into the family?’ And, feeling a fraud, Mark submitted to her embrace, mumbling what he hoped was an appropriate response.

  The hall suddenly filled with people converging from all directions to welcome Helena and her new fiancé, and his sleep-numbed brain struggled hopelessly to register their names.

  ‘Come and get warm!’ Mrs Crawford instructed, and led him into a brightly lit room where, he was thankful to see, a log fire roared in the grate. ‘And this is my husband,’ she added, as a tall, grey-haired man came forward and held out his hand.

  ‘Douglas Crawford,’ he said. ‘Adam, isn’t it? Welcome to the clan! Can I offer you a dram to dispel the cold?’

  ‘Thank you, that would be great.’

  What he really wanted was a long, hot shower, but there seemed little prospect of one at the moment. He looked round for Helena, but she was engaged in fielding questions from members of her family.

  ‘No, we’ve not chosen the ring yet,’ he heard her say. ‘I’m being very choosy and we’re still looking.’

  Douglas Crawford returned with a glass filled with golden liquid. ‘This’ll warm the cockles!’ he said. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll leave Nick here to look after you while I go and greet my daughter.’

  As he moved away a man Mark had glimpsed briefly in the hall took his place. Tall and lanky, he had dark wavy hair and wore glasses. At a guess, he was a few years Mark’s junior.

  ‘A bit overwhelming, isn’t it?’ he said with a sympathetic grin, holding out his hand. ‘Nick Pagett. I went through this myself a couple of hours ago, and Nat and I aren’t even engaged yet!’

  Mark smiled back. ‘“Yet” being the operative word, I gather?’

  ‘We don’t want to steal our hosts’ thunder, but I gather it’s an open secret.’

  ‘Congratulations!’

  ‘Likewise!’

  Mrs Crawford, mindful of her hostess duties, detached herself from the group round her daughter and came to join them. ‘Supper will be in half an hour,’ she said. ‘Adam, I’m sure you’d like to freshen up; perhaps, Nick, you’d take him to your room? I do apologize for your having to share when you don’t even know each other, but accommodation is somewhat limited.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ Nick assured her, and the two men left the room. Now that the hall was empty of people, Mark saw that it was large and square and, after the warmth of the sitting room, decidedly cool despite two old-fashioned radiators against the wall.

  Intercepting his glance, Nick said, ‘I hope you’ve brought your thermals! Nat apologized for the temperature; they’re usually here in summer, of course.’

  An open doorway opposite showed a long table laid for dinner. Though the room was in darkness, flickering firelight promised an additional heat source. Retrieving his case, Mark followed Nick up the steep staircase. The upstairs landing was also large and square, and the stairs continued to another floor.

  ‘Sebastian and the little boy are sleeping up there,’ Nick said. ‘And this is us,’ he added as he opened the second door on the right and switched on the light. It was a pleasant room, though the pale blue walls gave rise to an instinctive shiver on this February evening. The twin beds, Mark noted with vague relief, were on opposite sides of the room, with the window between them. There was a large, old-fashioned wardrobe, a dressing table, two upright chairs and, in one corner, a washbasin with two towels hanging on a rail.

  ‘The shower room and loo is next door,’ Nick told him, ‘and there’s also a family-sized bathroom. Mr and Mrs Crawford have an en suite, which I’m told they installed some years ago, but for anything other than a quick sluice the rest of us will have to queue.’

  ‘A quick sluice will do fine for now,’ Mark said. ‘I’m pretty shattered after the journey and hopefully it’ll wake me up a bit.’

  ‘Yes, I was surprised to hear you were coming by train. It must have been a hell of a slog.’

  There was a holdall on the far bed and a library book on the table beside it. Nick Pagett said quickly, ‘The beds look identical, but if you have any preference …?’

  ‘No, no, none at all.’ Mark lifted his own case on to the nearer one and unzipped it. Little had he thought, when packing that morning, that he would be opening it in Scotland at the home of a pseudo-fiancée!

  ‘I’ll leave you to unpack, then,’ Nick said. ‘There’s plenty of room in the wardrobe and the two bottom drawers of the dressing table are empty. Come down when you’re ready.’

  He went out, closing the door behind him. Mark drew a deep breath and, taking his mobile out of his pocket, switched it off and put it in one of the allotted drawers. The next few days would be complicated enough without any rogue calls from the office and he was, after all, on holiday. Then, shrugging off his jacket, he went to the basin and turned the hot tap full on.

  Paula Crawford turned as her husband came into the kitchen carrying a tray of dirty glasses.

  ‘Well, what do you think of him?’ she demanded.

  ‘Adam? A bit reticent, but he was probably overwhelmed by a superfluity of Crawfords, poor chap.’

  ‘He doesn’t seem at all Helena’s type,’ Paula said worriedly, ‘whereas Nick’s obviously perfect for Natalie. You can tell that just by looking at them.’

  ‘I’m not sure we know what Helena’s type is,’ Douglas returned mildly.

  ‘Well, they’ve only known each other five minutes, and he’s certainly very different from Jack.’

  ‘For which, after all that trauma, we should be sincerely thankful.’ He patted her shoulder as she lifted a casserole out of the oven. ‘You worry too much, my dear. The only thing conc
erning me is that we’ll have to fork out for two weddings within a few months of each other!’

  Paula turned to look at him. ‘And that’s really the only thing concerning you?’ she asked, her eyes raking his face.

  ‘Now don’t start that up again,’ Douglas said briskly. ‘We’re here on a week’s holiday with the family, and I intend to enjoy every minute of it.’

  The evening meal was served in the dining room, and a log fire provided a welcome boost to the ancient heating system. Paula and Douglas Crawford sat at either end of the table. Mark was seated on Paula’s right with Helena next to him, and Sebastian and little Danny made up the number on their side. Across from them were Nick, Natalie, Harry and Jessica.

  The main course was venison casserole with a choice of vegetables, accompanied by an exceptionally good burgundy. Everyone seemed hungry and conversation was limited for the first ten minutes, during which Mark surreptitiously studied the four people opposite. It was Natalie who most interested him, and he tried without success to detect a resemblance to her sister. She was fairer than Helena, her hair hanging in a chin-length bob that framed her rather serious face, and her eyes were grey instead of blue. He’d been told she was a GP, and despite their shared medical interest she seemed an odd choice for the cheerful, outgoing Nick.

  In fact it was Harry who, of all the siblings, most resembled Helena, with his coppery hair and vivid blue eyes. His wife Jessica, seated next to him, was a pale girl with shoulder-length hair and a sulky expression, who had barely spoken. It might have been his imagination, but Mark thought he’d detected an atmosphere between them; he’d noticed that Harry kept trying without success to draw her into the conversation, and wondered humorously if he’d blotted his copybook and was attempting to make amends.

  Paula turned to him, interrupting his musings. ‘Well, Adam,’ she said smilingly, ‘though we’d not met either you or Nick before, we’d already heard quite a bit about him from Natalie, whereas you are something of an unknown quantity! So do enlighten us! Do you live in London?’

  Helena’s foot nudged his warningly.

  ‘I work there,’ Mark answered cautiously, ‘but I actually live in Chislehurst.’

  ‘So what’s your line of work?’

  You’re free to be yourself, she’d said, and, having heard that when embarked on a lie it was as well to keep to the truth as far as possible, he complied.

  ‘I’m a Fine Arts valuer.’

  Douglas, at the far end of the table, leaned forward. ‘How very interesting! I’ve always wondered—’

  But what he wondered they never learned, for Danny’s treble voice interrupted him. Mark had almost forgotten the child, since he’d been very quiet and was not in his line of sight.

  ‘Please can I go to bed now, Daddy?’ he was asking plaintively.

  There was sympathetic laughter and Paula exclaimed, ‘Oh, darling, I’m so sorry – we’ve been too busy talking. It is late, but surely you’d like some pudding if I get it now?’

  Danny shook his head, knuckling his eyes, and Sebastian got to his feet. ‘Then bed it is, kiddo. Kiss Granny and Grandpa goodnight and I’ll take you up.’

  The little boy did so and he and Sebastian left the room. Paula stood up and, helped by her daughters, cleared the table and carried the dishes through to the kitchen, returning minutes later with the dessert and a cheese board.

  She smiled at Mark and Nick. ‘I hope you boys like trifle!’ she said. ‘It’s a family tradition that we have it on our first night here.’

  To Mark’s relief the interruption had diverted attention and the resumed conversation was more general.

  ‘Have you touched base yet with the Mackays?’ Harry asked.

  ‘Yes, we had dinner there the day we arrived.’ Paula turned to the newcomers. ‘They’re the family who own the Merlin Hotel. We used to stay there before we bought this house and we became friends, the children playing together and so on. They’re all much of an age: Blair comes between Seb and Harry, and Ailsa between Helena and Nat.’

  ‘But the connection goes back still further,’ put in Douglas with a smile. ‘Paula and I met while on holiday at the hotel, back in the dark ages! It was run by Callum’s parents then.’

  ‘Are Blair and Ailsa still around?’ Natalie enquired.

  ‘Indeed, yes.’ It was Paula who replied. ‘Blair’s helping to run the hotel and Ailsa’s married to the French chef.’

  ‘One way of holding on to him!’ Harry remarked jokingly.

  ‘And of course we’ll be there for our anniversary dinner.’

  ‘Is Blair married?’ Natalie asked idly, glancing at Helena as she speared a piece of Stilton.

  ‘No; still the most eligible bachelor in town!’

  ‘And no doubt still playing the field,’ Sebastian said drily. He’d caught the tail end of the conversation as he returned after settling his son. Jessica passed him the cheese board, which he accepted with a nod of thanks.

  Mark’s eyes went from one speaker to another, still hoping to form impressions of this family into which he’d been so unexpectedly thrust. Though conversation had flowed freely he’d been vaguely aware of underlying tension, but unable to pin down its source. Possibly there was more than one.

  Belatedly aware that he should make some contribution, he thanked Paula for the meal.

  ‘I’m glad you enjoyed it, but I can’t claim any credit,’ she told him. ‘As it’s my holiday too, a local couple comes in to cook the evening meal and wash up afterwards. Regarding lunch, though, which we’re never in for in the summer, I suggest it should be self-service as and when required. There’s plenty of eggs, bacon, soup and so on. Is everyone happy with that?’

  There was general agreement, and she pushed her chair back from the table. ‘Then if everyone’s finished, let’s go back to the sitting room so Meg and Andy can clear away.’

  ‘God, it’s cold!’ Helena exclaimed a couple of hours later. She stood in the centre of the bedroom, clutching an empty hot water bottle to her chest.

  ‘At least they brought extra blankets with them,’ Natalie said, ‘but Mum thought it wasn’t worth investing in electric ones, as we’re not likely to be here again at this time of year.’

  ‘For which heaven be praised!’

  ‘Give me your hottie and I’ll fill it with mine before one of the boys nabs the bathroom. It’s too fiddly trying to do it at the basin.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Helena looked disparagingly about her. ‘I’d forgotten how primitive it is,’ she said plaintively.

  ‘Well, we’ll just have to make the best of it and be thankful for the fan heater.’

  By the time she returned Helena was in her dressing gown, brushing her teeth at the basin.

  ‘So: you’re engaged!’ she commented, dropping one of the filled bottles on her sister’s bed.

  Helena turned from the basin. ‘By which you mean wonders never cease!’

  ‘Seriously, Hellie, are you sure this isn’t on the rebound?’

  ‘Of course I’m sure.’ She met Natalie’s eyes challengingly. ‘Why? Don’t you like him?’

  ‘I’ve barely spoken to him, but he did seem rather … reserved.’

  ‘Faced with the lot of us, can you blame him?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘Jack would have turned on the charm?’ Helena finished for her.

  Natalie flushed. ‘Sorry, that’s not what I meant.’

  ‘Be honest – yes, it was. But Jack, as I finally discovered to my cost, was all on the surface. There’s more … depth … to Adam.’ Helena paused. ‘I liked your Nick.’

  Natalie’s face brightened. ‘Did you? I can’t quite believe how happy I am!’

  ‘Par for the course, I’m told. When are you going to announce the engagement?’

  ‘On Wednesday probably, so as not to detract from Mum and Dad’s celebrations.’

  ‘Champagne two nights running!’ Helena said lightly.

  But later, awake in the dark, the reserva
tions that had been lying in wait till she’d nothing to distract her descended in force. Who was this man she’d so carelessly introduced into her family? She knew nothing whatever about him. God, she’d even forgotten his real name! While she had, perforce, supplied him with a wealth of personal detail, all he’d volunteered was that he was married ‘in a manner of speaking’ and had a four-year-old daughter!

  So where were they, if they were ‘not around at the moment’? For all she knew, he could have buried them under the patio! She moved her head impatiently on the pillow. That, of course, was ridiculous, but a more realistic worry was that she wasn’t even sure she liked him. How could she spend the next seven days pretending to be in love, and how would he in turn indicate that he loved her?

  Jack! The thought of him was a physical pain. She’d been so sure of him, so confident that they’d be together the rest of their lives. She still didn’t know what had gone wrong, exactly when or why he’d stopped loving her. The family must think her very shallow to have fallen in love again so soon; even pretending to have done so tarnished the memory. So what in the name of heaven had possessed her to embark on this childish charade? To her shame she knew the answer: her determination not to let her sister beat her to the altar. Yet as ‘Adam’ had said, its effect could only be temporary, so it was pointless anyway.

  Oh God, if only she could turn the clock back! But the stark fact was that having instigated this farce she would have to see it through, or risk further humiliation. Stoically she turned on her side and willed sleep to come.

  Across the landing Mark was also awake. He’d been hoping for a talk with Helena that evening; they’d not spoken privately since their arrival and he was badly in need of guidance. For instance, when and where was this whirlwind romance of theirs supposed to have started? It was as well this hadn’t been Paula’s first question. And although Helena had told her family nothing about him, she would obviously have told him about them. What was he supposed to know? The name of Sebastian’s estranged wife? How long Harry and Jessica had been married?

  But the opportunity hadn’t arisen and, since they’d all had tiring journeys, an early night had been suggested and he’d found himself preparing for bed still very unsure of the role he was expected to play. He could only hope things would look clearer after a good night’s sleep.