by Adele Geras
‘Go on, then. Spit it out.’
‘He’s broke. Well, not broke exactly but he’s lost the money from the sale of Milthorpe House.’
If Lou had been holding any crockery, she’d have dropped it for sure. As it was, she whirled round to face Nessa, gasping. ‘Lost it? How lost it? I can’t believe it. It was zillions.’
‘Not really. A measly just over two million or so. Barely enough to keep body and soul together.’
They started giggling. The wine must have had something to do with it because before long, they were clutching one another, helpless with laughter. In the end, it was Lou who broke away. ‘Stop!’ she said. ‘You must stop – I can’t laugh this much. And I don’t know why we’re laughing anyway. It’s awful. It’s not funny. It’s unbelievable. Two million pounds. What did he do?’
Nessa tore off a piece of kitchen towel from the roll hanging near the cooker and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘No, I don’t suppose it is funny, not really, but you have to laugh or else you’d just – I don’t know – cry, I suppose. He invested in a dodgy firm who’ve gone bust. That’s it. I think he wishes it were something more dramatic or dangerous. I think he’d have loved it to have been the Mafia or something. Such a drama queen, our Justin. Oh, God, I don’t know. It just makes me cross when I think of what we could have done with some of that dosh. Me and Mickey.’
Lou remembered what she’d seen when she was having lunch with Jake for the first time: Nessa in a clinch with Mickey. She couldn’t mention that, so she said, ‘Paper Roses, you mean? You’re not in financial difficulties, are you?’
‘Difficulties? No, not at all. The business is doing very well. I just meant – never mind.’
Lou glanced at Nessa. She’d sat down at the kitchen table and Lou sat down opposite her. Nessa was blushing. Suddenly, Lou realized why. A confession was on the way, she was sure of it. Should she say something? Lou was wondering about this when Nessa said, ‘Who’s this Jake then? Are you two an item?’
‘No, no, of course not. Whatever makes you think that? He just came down to see Dad, really. He’s interested in everything to do with Grandad and his writing. In fact, I was going to ask Justin if he could pull strings with Eremount so that Jake can go up to Milthorpe House to have a look at the actual study and all of that, before they pull the place apart.’
‘It shouldn’t be a problem, I’d have thought. It’s going to be some time, I reckon, before actual work begins on the site.’
‘I hate the thought of Milthorpe House being a spa.’ Lou made a face.
‘Can’t think why. It’s a bit sentimental to think of it as some kind of ancestral family home.’
Lou didn’t answer. Part of her knew Nessa was right but she couldn’t help what she felt. She’d promised to take Jake to look around it tomorrow morning, before they set off for London. Mum and Dad had agreed to look after Poppy for a couple of hours. It was going to be strange but at least Jake would get some idea of what the house was like when Grandad was alive. The builders and workmen hadn’t moved in yet, though they would be starting very soon on the conversion. She said, ‘Why did you think Jake and I were an item?’
‘Well, he’s rather dishy, isn’t he? In a sort of undernourished, Gary Sinese kind of way.’
‘Is he?’
‘You hadn’t noticed?’
‘He’s okay. He’s very nice, that’s the thing. He’s as keen on Blind Moon as I am.’
‘Aha! Common interests. Very important. That’s what all the agony aunts say, isn’t it?’
‘Shut up, Nessa. I’m not going to think about it. Okay?’
‘Hmm. Are you still – I mean, after Ray – are you still off sex?’
‘Bloody hell, Ness. It’s none of your business.’
‘But I’m dying to know and you can tell me. How about … if you tell me, then I’ll tell you a secret. How’s that?’
Lou looked at Nessa. Whether it was the wine working its magic, or whether Nessa had really changed, it seemed to her that for the first time since she was a child and in awe of her older sister, she was feeling something like a proper connection between them. Was there any reason why she couldn’t talk about Harry? Not really. She said, ‘I was keen on someone. Someone at my work. Harry. We went to Paris together for the weekend, but it didn’t work out. I got the signals wrong. He was involved with someone already. In America. That’s it.’
‘That’s bad. Poor old you. Still, you were up for it, right? You assumed you were going to bed with him?’
Lou nodded. Nessa grinned and said, ‘No harm done then – you’re still up for it. I’d consider Jake, if I were you.’
‘He’s much older than I am,’ Lou said.
‘How much older?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know how old he is?’
Lou shook her head. ‘I haven’t asked him.’
‘Right, then. You’d better find out.’
‘Stop it, Nessa. You’re just trying to avoid telling me your secret.’
‘No, I’m not. Honestly.’
‘Have you got one? Truly?’
‘Oh, yes …’ Nessa looked vaguely around. She was thinking, Lou knew, of ways of escaping. Of running away from the kitchen, of not having to spill the beans. ‘I’ve become …’ She stopped and said nothing for so long that Lou prompted her.
‘You’ve become what?’
‘I’m in love. I’m madly in love. That’s the secret.’
‘Who with? Why the fuss? Does that count as a secret?’ Now that she’d started by pretending she didn’t know anything about Mickey, she couldn’t do anything but be surprised.
‘Well, nobody knows yet. I haven’t told anyone.’
‘Then I’m honoured, but that’s only half a secret if you don’t say who it is. You haven’t exactly hung around. You’ve only just got a divorce.’ A thought occurred to Lou. ‘Or had you been having an affair for years and years that no one knew anything about?’
‘As if! No, this is – well, it’s a bit – I don’t know how to tell you.’
‘He’s married. Do I know him?’ (God, she was doing well at this cover-up!)
‘No, that’s not it. Not it at all – oh, God this is hard.’
Lou laughed. ‘He’s much younger than you are. You’re afraid people will say you’re cradle-snatching?’
‘No, no … nothing like that. You know this person.’
‘I do? Oh, go on, Nessa, just say the name.’
‘It’s Mickey.’
‘Mickey?!’
Nessa nodded. She was blushing again. Lou looked at her and opened her mouth to speak, and then thought better of it and took a deep breath. I have to be careful what I say here, she told herself. Now that Nessa had told her, she was trying to work out the ramifications of what she knew. She had to say something, or Nessa would think she was shocked. Well, she was, a bit, if she stopped to think about it. Could you just become a lesbian overnight? Was that what had happened to Nessa? Could she ask her how it happened? She said, ‘God, Nessa, I don’t know what to say. Have you ever … I mean … how did you know … Oh, this is ghastly. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say! Tell me about it. Go on. I just want to know how you feel. What happened?’
‘I fell in love. That’s what happened. I wasn’t, I’ve never – I mean I never thought I’d ever be attracted to a woman. In that way. But I found I was. I am. And, well, it’s great. I’m so happy, Lou. She’s so – I can’t explain it. It’s like we fit together. I’m like – well, it’s a bit like being a teenager again, I suppose. I just think about her all the time. We’re going to … this bit really is a secret, so don’t say a word to anyone, okay? We’re going to have a civil ceremony. At Christmas.’
‘But, who knows about Mickey?’
‘No one. Well, Justin might have put two and two together, but no one else. I couldn’t say anything before the divorce came through because I didn’t want Gareth throwing a wobbly.’
�
�Would he?’
‘I didn’t want to take the risk of him getting complete custody of Tamsin. And you’d be amazed at how many people there are who’d raise an eyebrow if they thought a child was being brought up by a couple of dykes.’
‘Don’t say that, Ness. It’s horrible. But what’ll happen now? When you get married, for instance?’
‘I’ll wait a bit before I tell Gareth. We’re getting into a custody routine. Melanie’s baby will be here soon and he’ll have his work cut out coping with that. Melanie will see to it, I promise you. My relationship with Mickey will be a fait accompli by then.’
‘When are you going to tell Mum and Dad? And Ellie?’
‘I’ve no idea. Maybe tonight. No, I’m only kidding. Dad’ll have enough to think about with Justin’s revelation. Don’t want to knock him out entirely. You’ll keep quiet, won’t you? Don’t tell a soul. Okay?’
‘No, I won’t. I promise.’
‘Right … gotta go. Mickey’ll be wondering what’s happened to me. Jake’ll be wondering what’s happened to you.’
‘No, he won’t.’ Lou smiled at her. ‘Tell them we’ve been clearing up and that I’ll be there any minute.’
When Nessa had gone, Lou took a damp cloth and began to wipe the work surfaces. Nessa and Mickey. She tried to imagine what it would be like to make love to another woman and failed. Did this new passion of Nessa’s mean that she’d given up men altogether? She might be bisexual. That must be nice – gave you many more chances of finding a soul-mate. Would she consider it? Lou thought about the young women she knew and decided that no, she truly, truly didn’t fancy a single one of them. So I’m not bisexual, she told herself. What about Jake, though? Nessa thought they might be an item. It was true that Lou had been thinking about him quite a lot recently. She had admitted to herself that she fancied him, but only in a general sort of way. Not seriously, because he’d never shown any sign of fancying her, but maybe … he’d put a child seat for Poppy into his car. Actions speak louder than words. Well, perhaps they did, but there hadn’t been any words. None. The fact that he’d never flirted with her had to be weighed against the things he had done. And she ought to try and find out exactly how old he was. Not that it would make much difference if she decided that – oh, for God’s sake, grow up. Nessa being in love and seeing everything through rose-coloured spectacles was getting to her. That was all this was. Paper Rose-coloured spectacles! I must be a bit drunk, Lou thought, smiling at her own silly joke as she went back to the sitting room.
*
Nessa and Mickey and Justin left the house shortly after ten o’clock. Nessa’s story was she had to get up early to meet a supplier who was flying over from Germany. Lou suspected that what she really wanted to do was be alone with Mickey. Justin had probably fled the chilly atmosphere that seemed to have sprung up between him and Matt after their chat. I must find out from Dad what he thinks about all that stuff with the money, Lou thought. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Jake and her parents talking quietly together. You could almost, she thought, see them relaxing as he spoke. He had that effect on everyone. Calming them down, and giving them the kind of attention that made them eager to talk, to confide in him, instead of running away in horror at his rather un-English directness.
‘Lou told me what you found in Rosemary Barrington’s prayer book,’ Jake said. ‘That must have been very upsetting for you. Did you know your grandmother, Mr Barrington? Rosemary Barrington, I mean.’
‘Do call me Matt, please. Oh, yes – I was already grown up by the time she died. She was a difficult sort of woman. I never got on very well with her, actually. That was probably my mother’s doing. She didn’t like her a bit. And my father – well, he had a strange relationship with his mother.’
‘Do you think that might have been because she wasn’t his real mother?’
‘Possibly, but he seemed … well, resigned at least, to being her son. He was always very dutiful but I never saw much affection between them, but then my father wasn’t one to show his feelings. Apart from Lou. He adored Lou.’
Lou smiled and Jake turned to her and smiled too. To Matt he said, ‘If he knew what had happened, it must have been a little hard for him to show affection to someone he regarded as responsible for his mother’s death.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Matt leaned forward. ‘I feel very guilty, never having read Blind Moon. I’ve glanced at the beginning.’ He looked shamefaced. ‘I’m not much of a reader, actually. I can remember when it came out. There were a couple of articles in the paper. A few reviews. Dad was a small kind of celebrity for a bit, but I was young then and getting on with my own things. You know how it is. You don’t really pay that much attention to what your parents are up to.’
Lou said, ‘When Grandad first read it to me, he left out all that. I used to think it was a kind of boys’ own adventure. And completely fictional.’
‘I’m not saying what I’ve learned about Rosemary isn’t terrible,’ Matt said. ‘But I’ve been thinking and perhaps … well, I’m making excuses, but it’s more than likely that Louise would have died anyway. That doesn’t make what Rosemary did any more understandable, but just – well, perhaps it’s not quite as bad as murder. Maybe there’s a case for saying Louise was spared days of unnecessary misery. I still find it hard to take in her motive.’
‘She wanted her child,’ Jake said. ‘She’d wanted the baby for herself – Mary, the girl baby who dies in the book, but Peter – your father, Matt – was the next best thing. It’s very important in the novel, Dulcie’s longing for a child. You’re led to believe that she’d do anything. As indeed she does.’
Matt said, ‘Still, after all, a Japanese prisoner-of-war camp – people were dying there all the time from diseases and hunger and what have you. That’s true, isn’t it? Mightn’t he have – I don’t know – dramatized the situation to make it more exciting? More of a shock to the reader?’
‘Perhaps, I guess,’ said Jake. ‘But there’s Rosemary’s letter. The one you’ve just found.’
‘Sometimes people …’ Matt paused, ‘dramatize things that have happened to them, or around them, to make themselves look more important. Perhaps Rosemary was mistaken?’
Lou shook her head. ‘No, you’ll see if you read the book, Dad. It’s so carefully described. Every single thing.’
‘In any case,’ Jake added, ‘I don’t think it makes any difference to the book. The story is there, in black and white, and soon everyone’s going to be able to read it and the biography won’t really come into it.’
‘I’m rather relieved that my father didn’t live to see his work revived,’ said Matt.
‘How can you say that, Dad? Grandad would be so thrilled,’ Lou exclaimed.
‘Well, yes and no. Nowadays the press would have been all over him, asking him all sorts of intrusive questions: was your mother deliberately murdered by your adoptive mother or was that just something you made up? You can imagine the sort of thing I mean, I’m sure. He’d have hated all that.’ Matt stood up. ‘I hope you forgive me if I go up now. I’m very tired suddenly. It’s been a super evening, even if a little more, well, serious, than I’m used to on my birthday. And thank you, Jake, for the champagne, that was a kind thought. I’m delighted to have met you – and please don’t feel you have to hurry off to your hotel. Do stay. Have another cup of coffee or something.’
Jake stood up to say goodnight. Lou waited as her mother, too, said her farewells and followed Matt upstairs. Jake said, ‘I’d better go too, I guess, but your dad’s right … I wouldn’t mind another cup of coffee, if that’s okay.’
‘Me too. That crab sauce always makes me thirsty.’
‘I cannot believe,’ Jake was saying as they went into the kitchen, ‘that your father didn’t read the book years ago. Amazing.’
‘I know. I’d always assumed, when Grandad first read bits out to me when I was a child, that he’d made the story up. And now I think I remember – well, it was a long ti
me ago and to be honest I’d forgotten about it till just a moment ago – isn’t it strange how things come back to you? Like scenes from a film suddenly coming into focus.’
‘Remember what?’
‘Grandad sort of alluding to it.’ Lou prepared the coffee and put it on the table as she spoke. ‘One of those conversations that start out being hypothetical. You know: there’s a bear chasing two of you and you have to decide whether to run away as quickly as you can and save yourself or stay with your companion who isn’t so fast and risk becoming the bear’s dinner. That kind of thing. Grandad was always clear that he’d stay. He’d never, he said, abandon a friend. And then he said something I didn’t understand at the time, but which … well, he said unless that friend had something I really, really wanted and could only get if he died. That would make things different, I suppose. I was about nine or so and I was very shocked. I argued with him. I said if he did that, it would be a kind of murder and he agreed with me, that was the thing. He smiled at me and said of course you’re right. It is murder, isn’t it? Very well, I wouldn’t do it whatever happened. Satisfied?’
‘And that’s it? No more than that?’ Jake took a sip of his coffee. ‘This is delicious. Thank you.’
‘No. No more than that. Maybe what Dad says is true about Rosemary dramatizing her role. Even if she didn’t actually murder Louise, even if Grandad made that bit up, he makes it obvious in the book that Dulcie – Rosemary – is obsessed with having a child, almost any child. The way he describes the events when they all come out of the camp; the way Dulcie takes him over, almost smothers him – that’s true, I’m sure.’
‘Then there’s this: would a child consent to being adopted by someone they reckoned killed their beloved parent?’
‘You’ve read it, Jake! It’s made quite clear why he submits to that. What’s the alternative? An orphanage? Being sent to live with someone he’s never heard of? Rosemary was his mother’s best friend. Before his mother’s death he liked her. Admired her. He thought she was pretty and kind. Surely some of those feelings would survive? I don’t think it matters. Not to the novel. Maybe to my dad. He might not like the idea of his grandmother being exposed as a murderer, so perhaps we’d better not emphasize the autobiographical element too much. I don’t think Dad would like the press all over him any more than Grandad would have done. Let’s just say it’s a fantastic novel, that’s all.’
