Sins of the Fathers

by Anthea Fraser

  The climax for which he’d been mentally preparing himself came with the advent of the birthday cake. It was conveyed to the top table with some ceremony and a spontaneous round of applause, a glorious confection on a silver stand. The obligatory song was sung, Peter – after several attempts – blew out the token six candles, and then came the cries of ‘Speech! Speech!’

  Mark held his breath as their host stumbled to his feet again and stood, swaying slightly and beaming jovially around. Lydia was looking up at him anxiously, biting her lip, and Mark felt Sophie stiffen at his side.

  ‘I’d just like to thank you all for coming,’ he began, his voice slurred. ‘I’ve had a wonderful life, and would like to thank my lovely wife for all the love and support she’s given me—’

  He half-turned towards Lydia, lost his balance and stumbled forward, landing on the cake and sending it crashing to the ground in a snowstorm of shattered icing. There was a brief, stunned silence while he stood looking at the destruction in almost comical dismay. Then Charles rose quickly and took his arm. ‘Not feeling too good, old chap?’ he asked solicitously. ‘It’s very hot in here – let’s get you some air.’ And with a hand under Peter’s elbow he walked him quickly out of the tent, followed by Lydia, murmuring a general distressed, ‘Excuse us!’

  Sophie burst into tears and ran after them and Mark, hesitating a moment, flung a look of apology at the horrified faces around him before following her. He caught up with her on the terrace and, grabbing her arm, pulled her round to face him.

  ‘No, sweetheart, let them go,’ he urged as, still sobbing, she struggled to free herself. ‘Dad and your mum can deal with it. He wouldn’t want you to see him in that state.’

  ‘He’s ill!’ she cried. ‘He must be! I’ve never seen him like this before!’

  ‘I know, love. Everyone will have been drinking his health and he’ll have felt he had to respond, no doubt on an empty stomach.’

  She shook her head, unconvinced. Mark glanced back across the garden. Through the marquee opening he could see that subdued conversation had resumed and wondered what he should do. As a family member perhaps he ought to go back and apologize, but he couldn’t leave Sophie in this distressed state. It was with a wave of relief that he heard his mother’s voice rise above the others. Good old Mum! She’d see to things.

  He turned back to Sophie and led her through the conservatory, past the table piled with gaily wrapped packages, into the cool of the hall. There was no sign of the other three; he assumed they’d gone upstairs. He was about to turn into the sitting room when a member of the catering staff appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking worried.

  ‘Would it be in order to serve coffee now, sir?’ he enquired.

  That would ease matters, Mark reflected thankfully. ‘Good idea,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately there was an accident with the cake, so it would be great if someone could go down and clear it up. As you probably saw, Mr Kingsley’s been taken ill and Mrs Kingsley’s with him, but coffee would be an excellent idea. And if someone could bring a glass of water to the sitting room for my wife, I’d be most grateful.’

  The man nodded, relieved to be given orders, and Mark followed Sophie into the sitting room, where she was searching in her handbag for a handkerchief.

  ‘What a horrible thing to have happened!’ she said unsteadily. ‘Poor Daddy – he must be feeling terrible.’

  ‘I’m sure the worst is over,’ he said soothingly and, at the discreet tap on the open door, went to take the glass of water from a waiter. Sophie sipped at it slowly and gradually her breathing steadied.

  But though he’d succeeded in comforting his wife, whose colour was now returning, Mark himself remained worried. Over the years he’d seen Peter Kingsley at countless parties, both as host and guest, and he’d always been in total control of himself. There must be some underlying problem that had contributed to his lack of it today.

  After fifteen minutes, during which Sophie had become increasingly anxious to go to her parents, Charles and Lydia joined them in the sitting room. She jumped up to put an arm round her mother, who leant briefly against her.

  ‘He’s been vomiting,’ Charles said tersely, ‘but he’s asleep now. He’ll be fine when he wakes.’

  ‘What’s happening with the guests?’ Lydia asked anxiously.

  ‘I asked the staff to clear up the cake and serve coffee,’ Mark replied. ‘I think Mum’s taken charge down there.’

  ‘That’s good of her, but I must go and have a word with them, explain it was the heat that upset him; he was under the midday sun for over an hour, with no head-covering.’ She glanced at the others. ‘Actually, I think it would look better if we all put in an appearance, if you wouldn’t mind. Mark and Sophie needn’t stay, but I must be there to say goodbye to our guests.’

  ‘Of course we’ll come.’

  As they stepped out on to the terrace, Mark noticed that the sun had gone in and the air had taken on a metallic quality. Perhaps the break in the weather Lydia had feared was coming after all. Presenting a united front, the four of them walked back across the grass, pausing at the entrance to the marquee, where Lydia’s hostess skills resurfaced.

  ‘I’m so sorry, everyone. As you all know, Peter steadfastly refuses to wear a sunhat and I’m afraid the heat, followed by the rich food, proved too much for him. However, he’s now much better and is resting in bed. He asked me to say how sorry he is for the upset, and hopes it won’t have spoilt your enjoyment of the day.’

  There was a polite murmur of assurance and understanding, and as the four of them started to circulate the atmosphere gradually lightened. By the time, half an hour later, that the guests began to disperse, it almost seemed as if the incident had been forgotten.

  When the last of them had left, the Kingsleys and the Richmonds regathered in the sitting room.

  ‘Well done, Lydia,’ Charles said quietly. ‘You were magnificent. You too, Margot, holding it all together in the immediate aftermath.’

  Jonathan, after a significant glance from his wife, said hesitantly, ‘I think perhaps we should be making a move too, if that’s OK. We’ve arranged to meet some friends later.’

  ‘Of course,’ Lydia said quickly. ‘And thank you so much for your support. And, of course, your present. They’ll all be opened tomorrow and Peter will be in touch to thank you personally.’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Feel free to go too if you like, darling,’ she added. ‘I know it’s been quite an ordeal for you, but it’s over now.’

  Sophie hesitated. ‘Could I go up and see Daddy?’

  ‘Better not. He’s sleeping, anyway.’

  ‘If we waited …?’

  ‘Don’t worry about him, Sophie,’ Margot said firmly. ‘Charles and I will stay with your mother for a while. You go home now and relax.’

  ‘He’ll phone you tomorrow,’ Lydia repeated, and Sophie finally acquiesced.

  The storm broke on their way home. In view of Sophie’s upset, Mark had felt it wiser after all to do the driving himself, and it was as well that he did. The afternoon had grown progressively darker, more like late autumn than mid-August, and when they were about halfway a blinding zigzag of lightning flooded the car with silver light, followed instantly by an ear-numbing crack of thunder which seemed directly overhead. The car swerved momentarily under his hands.

  ‘I hope Florence and Steph are back from the park,’ Sophie said jerkily. ‘She hates thunder.’

  Then came the rain, glancing silver needles sluicing horizontally across the windscreen and drumming on the roof. Mark switched the wipers to full power but they fought a losing battle under the onslaught of water and he was driving almost blind.

  Turning on his headlights, he moved cautiously into the slow lane as, he saw, drivers both behind him and ahead were doing. With a rare flash of fancy, he felt as though all the tensions of the day, unable to be contained any longer, had finally exploded.

  Then, as suddenly as it had started, the rain ceased like a tap bein
g turned off and the streaming windscreen was lit by an equally blinding ray of sunshine that reflected dazzlingly off the wet road. For once, Mark thought ironically, he really would be glad to get home.

  In the months that followed, he was often to wonder if that afternoon had heralded the disintegration of the family.

  THREE

  Drumlee

  A loud click penetrated Mark’s sleep the next morning and he opened his eyes to see Nick bending over the fan heater. He straightened as Mark stirred.

  ‘Sorry, did that wake you?’

  ‘It’s OK. What time is it?’

  ‘Just gone seven thirty. Would you believe there’s ice on the inside of the window?’

  ‘I’d believe it!’ Mark pulled a blanket up round his ears. ‘God, what a country!’

  ‘It’s obvious they only come here in summer – no double glazing.’ Nick glanced at his watch. ‘I was wondering whether to take a shower now; do you think it would wake anyone?’

  ‘I should risk it, and if it’s still free, I’ll go in straight after you. Might warm us up!’

  Paula lay watching the daylight seep into the room. ‘It looks like a lovely day,’ she said sleepily.

  ‘Excellent. I wonder if anyone will be up for a game of golf?’

  ‘Seb might.’ She paused. ‘You were very restless in the night, darling. Didn’t you sleep well?’

  ‘I had trouble getting off, that’s all.’ Douglas’s tone was dismissive.

  But it wasn’t all, Paula suspected. The tossing and turning had continued throughout the night, frequently waking her. He might deny it, but she knew something was on his mind and wished he’d share it with her. Perhaps once they were home again …

  An appetizing smell of kippers met Mark and Nick as they came downstairs and they traced it to the large kitchen at the back of the house, where several members of the family were gathered. Sebastian, Danny and Natalie, seated at the scrubbed table, were halfway through their breakfast and Harry was on duty with the frying pan.

  ‘Hi!’ he greeted them cheerfully. ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘Like a log!’ replied Nick, bending to kiss Natalie’s cheek, and Mark let the answer stand for them both.

  ‘There’s a pair of kippers ready if anyone’d like them, but bacon and eggs are also on offer.’

  ‘Kippers for me,’ Mark said.

  Nick added, ‘Me too, please.’

  ‘Kippers it is, then. Tea and coffee’s on the side – help yourselves.’

  The two men did so. ‘Where’s everyone else?’ Mark enquired, taking his place at the table. ‘Still in bed?’

  ‘Jessica has a headache,’ Harry said. ‘I’m on breakfast duty, so I took her a tray when I did Mum and Dad’s. When we’re here we always give them breakfast in bed – their holiday treat.’

  ‘And Helena?’

  ‘Woke early, so she’s gone for a walk,’ Natalie replied. ‘Said she’d be back around nine but she never has breakfast anyway, just a cup of coffee.’ She glanced at Mark with a smile. ‘Or perhaps you already know that!’

  He smiled back non-committally as Harry came over with two plates of the golden fish. ‘Scottish kippers – none better!’ he announced with satisfaction.

  Danny’s egg-smeared plate showed he’d gone for the alternative and Sebastian, noting Mark’s glance, said succinctly, ‘Too many bones!’

  Mark nodded. ‘My – niece won’t eat them either.’ He’d almost said ‘my daughter’, and the thought of Florence brought the usual stab of pain. What would she be doing, this Saturday morning? Probably having breakfast in the kitchen at Dormers, fussed over by her grandmother. Oh God, Lydia! He hastily brought his thoughts back to the present.

  Notwithstanding the bones, the kippers were delicious and Mark surprised himself by following them up with two slices of toast and marmalade. Normally, like Helena’s, his breakfast consisted of a cup of coffee.

  ‘So, what are the plans for today?’ Sebastian asked, leaning back in his chair.

  Harry shrugged. ‘I doubt Jess will want to go far afield; she doesn’t like the cold.’

  ‘Well, you’re welcome to join Danny and me. We’re going for a bracing walk along the front, followed by a lunch of burger and chips.’

  ‘Thanks; I’ll join you for the walk, but I’ll come back for lunch with Jess. How about you, Nat?’

  ‘I’m going to introduce Nick to Drumlee, and I think Hellie’s intending to show Adam around. We’ll probably all end up at the Merlin for a bar lunch.’

  ‘What about your parents?’ Mark asked, concerned that their hosts might be left to their own devices.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about them!’ Harry said airily. ‘We always separate during the day and meet up in the evenings. If I know Dad, he’ll try to talk Mum into walking round the golf course with him.’

  ‘I’ll be happy to give him a game tomorrow,’ Sebastian said.

  They were still at the table half an hour later when Helena returned, looking decidedly more animated than when Mark had last seen her, skin glowing and hair tousled by the wind. She poured herself a mug of coffee and flopped down on the chair next to him.

  ‘Ready for a tour of the metropolis?’ she asked him.

  ‘Raring to go.’

  ‘It might surprise you,’ Natalie cautioned. ‘It’s not your usual seaside town that shuts down out of season.’

  To be honest, Mark wasn’t sure how he’d imagined Drumlee; it had been dark when they’d arrived the previous evening and he’d been half asleep, but Sebastian’s comment about the coast had indeed conjured up the picture of a string of houses offering bed and breakfast and shops selling buckets and spades, all boarded up for the winter. Wide of the mark, he now gathered, and this was confirmed half an hour later when he and Helena set out on their walk and he found himself in a street of solid stone houses, with the sea nowhere in sight. A plaque on the gatepost bore the name ‘Touchstone’.

  ‘What?’ Helena challenged him, as he paused on the pavement.

  ‘Somehow I’d imagined the sea to be just across the road,’ he confessed with a smile.

  ‘There are a couple of roads between, but we can smell it when the wind’s in the right direction.’

  ‘But it is a holiday town?’

  ‘Oh yes, Drumlee has its fair share of visitors, but as Nat said, it’s not dependent on them. Life goes on very comfortably all year round; there are clubs and a theatre and concert hall, as well as a thriving fishing industry. Part of the holiday we always looked forward to was going down to the harbour when the boats came in to watch them unload and weigh the fish, then buying some for supper. Those kippers you had would have been smoked locally.’

  ‘So no buckets and spades and tatty souvenir shops? I’m quite disappointed!’

  ‘Oh, buckets and spades are there if you want them, but the souvenirs are more likely to be tartan rugs or Rennie Mackintosh jewellery.’ She paused. ‘Still, there are more important things to discuss before we meet Nat and Nick for lunch.’

  As they strolled down into the town, she answered such questions as had already occurred to him, including when and where they were supposed to have met, and volunteered more information about the family.

  ‘Seb’s been divorced for about two years,’ she told him. ‘Things had been difficult for a while, but it came to a head just before Harry and Jess’s wedding, which was unfortunate to say the least. Danny lives with his mother and stepfather but spends most weekends with Seb.’

  ‘Jessica seemed very quiet last night,’ Mark ventured.

  Helena frowned. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure what to make of her. They live in Cheshire, so I don’t see much of them. What I do know is that she’s pretty talented – runs her own interior design business.’

  They were approaching the town centre, and again Mark was pleasantly surprised. There was a spaciousness about it that gave an air of elegance to the wide streets, and ahead of them was a large square with flowerbeds in the centre. As they drew n
ear he saw these were filled with a sea of white blooms.

  ‘Oh, how lovely!’ Helena exclaimed. ‘This must be part of Scotland’s Snowdrop Festival. I’ve heard of it, but we’ve never been here for it.’ She nodded towards a handsome building on the far side of the square. ‘And that’s the Merlin Hotel, where we’ll be having lunch. In the meantime I want to buy something for the parents, so let’s aim for the Mall.’

  This proved to be an elegant indoor arcade and Mark, who loathed shopping, resigned himself to a boring half hour as he followed Helena in and out of a variety of shops.

  ‘I want something red for their ruby wedding,’ she said. ‘Any ideas?’

  ‘None,’ he replied.

  ‘What about your parents? Have they reached forty years?’

  ‘No, two to go.’ He paused, thinking wryly of himself and Sophie. ‘I wonder how many of our generation will stick together that long?’

  She gave a short laugh. ‘Better not let the parents hear you say that, when you’re my betrothed! But don’t think it’s always been a bed of roses for them; they separated for about a year when I was eleven.’

  He looked at her in surprise. ‘Really? Do you know why?’

  She shook her head. ‘It was never discussed, but Dad just upped and disappeared to his London office.’

  ‘So – they don’t live near London?’

  ‘Something else I should have mentioned,’ Helena chided herself. ‘No, the family home’s near Chester and Seb and Harry both work in the city.’ She smiled. ‘The boys stayed close to home and the girls fled the coop! Read what you will into that!’

  ‘So Natalie’s in London too?’

  ‘Harrow, actually.’ She broke off, staring into the shop window beside them. ‘There!’ she exclaimed in triumph. ‘Exactly what I was looking for!’

  In the centre of the window display was an elegant vase in ruby-red glass. Mark had another set of questions, but she’d already disappeared into the shop.

  Jessica stood at her bedroom window watching Harry and his brother set off on their walk. God knew what they thought of her, all of them, especially the two new men who were joining the family. She hadn’t exactly sparkled at dinner last night, and she’d noticed the fair one glance at her once or twice when Harry was trying to include her in the conversation. She could hardly have explained it was taking all her concentration simply to keep from vomiting.