‘But what if the baby should …’ Bea hesitated.
‘If she loses the baby or there’s a problem, she’ll need me more than ever,’ Isobel had said firmly. ‘I’ve got no choice,’ she’d cried at Will’s back. ‘Please try to understand. I don’t want to do this. Please help me.’
He’d turned round at that, putting Sidney’s bowl on the floor and smiling at her. ‘Of course we understand,’ he said. ‘We just don’t want to lose you. And I think that Bea is simply trying to make sure you’ve thought it all through. That’s all.’
‘I haven’t had time to take it all in properly,’ admitted Isobel. ‘But I feel quite sure that I must help her.’
A few days later, Tessa had telephoned to say that their plan for unmasking Adrian Pearson had gone badly wrong and that Giles was in hospital with a split head and concussion but at least Adrian had been detained by the police and his scheme exposed. The anxiety that followed this had, to some extent, taken Isobel out of the spotlight. Bea and Will had hurried off to see Tessa and visit Giles in Derriford Hospital and, when they returned, told her that Tessa had broken her engagement with Sebastian and was now engaged to Giles. Confusion reigned for a few days and Isobel had almost welcomed the opportunity to suspend her own anxieties in lieu of Tessa’s. Giles recovered, Adrian was charged with assault and serenity was restored to the cove.
Meanwhile, Isobel carefully considered her own situation and finally came to the conclusion that her first decision was the right one. Through the following months she never changed her mind and, as the days passed, a sense of excitement had grown in her. She began to look forward to the change in her life and went to Bristol to see Helen in the flat. Isobel had taken one look at Helen’s tired, anxious face and set out to cheer and amuse her; she made plans for the future and rearranged the flat and presently Helen had been able to join in, becoming more positive and even excited. Encouraged, Isobel had made light of the lack of space and money, making it all seem like a delightful adventure. By the time she left she was confident that she was doing the right thing for both of them. Her own old feelings of futility were gone; she felt needed, useful, happy. The expression on Helen’s face, when she told her that she’d been offered the job and would be moving to Bristol as soon as she could, was all that she needed as a reward.
The farewell lunch at Orchard’s in Fore Street was a heartwrenching business. She knew that she would miss her hours in the bookshop. Her friends were full of sympathy and encouragement but as she drove out along the embankment, slowing down on Bowcombe Bridge to stare out over the estuary, she knew a moment of terror. The boats rocked gently at their moorings and the golden light of late afternoon washed the quiet scene with a soft hazy glow. Two swans glided silently on the rippling water and, on the foreshore, someone had lit a bonfire. The sharp scent of smoke drifted in the autumn air and Isobel felt nostalgia tug at her heartstrings. How could she bear to leave this place for a small flat in a busy city?
She drove on slowly, bumping down the track, and parking as usual behind the house. She stood for some time, watching the tide sweeping in, listening to the mournful crying of a gull, remembering Mathilda. For some reason she began to feel soothed. Her fear gradually diminished and hope took its place. In her mind’s eye she saw the slight figure, with her gleanings bag on her arm; remembered the keen look of the slate-blue eyes; heard the clear precise voice.
‘And did you find happiness?’
‘Oh, Mathilda,’ said Isobel aloud. ‘I think that this time I might just be in with a chance.’
TESSA AND GILES SAID goodbye to the Perrymans, who had been admiring her ring whilst she and Giles drank their coffee, left the Roundhouse and drove up on to the moor. Charlie Custard lounged in the back of Tessa’s car, wondering if he might be allowed a walk. He was bored by the comings and goings of Giles at Freddie’s. He preferred to have Tessa’s attention all to himself and none of this hugging and carrying-on generally. He sighed deeply and leaned heavily against the side window.
‘Nearly there, Custard,’ said Tessa cheerfully and swung into a narrow lane made brilliant by the glowing colours of the beech leaves now in full autumn splendour. The red rays of the sun slanted low through the woods and the cold wind scattered the fallen leaves across the lane. Tessa parked and she and Giles climbed out, pulling on coats. They released Charlie Custard, who jumped out and ran to sniff about. Giles held out a hand to Tessa who took it, grinning up at him. He shook his head.
‘I’m still getting over it,’ he said. ‘If it hadn’t been for Andy you’d be married to Sebastian now and far away in Washington.’
‘Don’t talk about it.’ She shivered and held his hand tighter. ‘And he was so fantastic about it, saying that he’d got cold feet himself. It’s worked out so well. The Andersons have been so kind and understanding. Oh, Giles. Aren’t we lucky? Look! There’s a leaf falling. Quick. Catch it. It’s a year’s good luck if you catch a falling leaf. Damn!’
The leaf twirled gently away, eluding her frantic snatches at it. Giles laughed and began to run after her as the wind sent an eddy of leaves whirling across the lane. Charlie Custard, surprised at such behaviour, began to bark. He danced about, getting in the way, and Tessa, breathless with laughter, reached up for a leaf and fell over his back. They stumbled together, falling on to the verge, and Charlie Custard scrambled up and shook himself, shocked at such disrespect. Giles hauled Tessa to her feet and kissed her.
‘I’ve got a ready-made family,’ she told him happily. ‘Kate and David, Guy and Gemma. Not to mention dear old Bea and Will. And now that Isobel’s off to Bristol, we can have the cottage. I shall miss her but she’s promised to come back often. I think it’s a brilliant idea to convert the top of the boathouse into a darkroom for you. It’s going to be such fun.’
‘We’ll be like Mum and David,’ he said, putting an arm about her as they strolled after Charlie Custard. ‘Divided between Devon and London.’
‘It’ll be fun,’ she said again. ‘I shall keep my favourites, though. Mrs Carrington and Freddie. And Kate, of course.’
He held her closer, too happy to speak, and she fell silent, remembering her terror when she thought she’d lost him for ever. Another gust of wind shuddered through the trees and she reached up towards the leaves.
‘OK,’ he said, resigned. ‘One each and one for Custard. Come on. ’
They began to run, their shouts echoing in the lane, their hands stretched upwards towards the leaves which floated down from the branches above them.
THE MORRIS, WITH ISOBEL’S hand waving madly from the window, disappeared up the track. Bea and Will stood for a moment looking after her and then glanced at each other. There was a faint feeling of constraint.
‘Well,’ said Bea. ‘I’m sure we shall be seeing her often.’
‘Yes,’ said Will. He bent to pat Sidney’s head and then straightened his shoulders. ‘Cold wind. Think I’ll go and check the fire.’
‘Good idea.’
They went inside together and Will went upstairs, followed by the faithful Sidney. Bea stood silently beside the sink, aware of Will’s unhappiness and wondering how to help him. She had realised, quite quickly after the meeting with Helen, that Will’s feeling for Isobel was, after all, more than a paternal affection. It had come as a shock but very soon she had been able to feel compassion for him. Occasionally a burst of irritation might sweep over her at the thought of it but she was too fond of him by now to be very sharp-tongued. She knew that Isobel had never viewed Will in that light and this private certainty increased her compassion and made her kind.
She was sure that Will would come to terms with Isobel’s absence; he was too positive, too cheerful a man, to allow himself to become bitter. There was something ridiculous in an elderly man falling in love with a much younger woman, and Bea knew that Will was aware of this and that the knowledge helped him to hide any emotions which might damage his self-respect. Sighing to herself, she began to assemble some tea. Toast by the fire and a ga
me of Scrabble might help to console him.
‘No fool like an old fool,’ she told herself. ‘But it doesn’t mean that it hurts less.’
WILL, STANDING ON THE balcony, staring out over the sea, would have agreed with her. He had tried to conceal his disappointment from both Isobel and Bea but he suspected that he had not done too well. The shock had been too great and the thought of losing Isobel filled him with unhappiness. It had been a relief to concentrate on Tessa and Giles and the court case against Adrian Pearson but the pain had been there, gnawing away in the background. He knew now that she would never have married him, that it had been a moment of Indian summer madness on his part, but the knowledge that she was gone from the cove, that he would never hear her voice calling from the kitchen or see her wandering on the beach, was hard to bear.
For Bea’s sake he tried to pull himself together. There was still so much to be grateful for and Bea’s companionship was very important to him. He wondered if it were the genes they had inherited from old John Rainbird which were responsible for the ease they found together. He thought of Mathilda, living peacefully here in the cove, and wondered if she had known love. For some reason the knowledge of her life here, the use of her belongings, a sense of her presence, brought him comfort and he took a deeper breath and raised his head. She, too, had stood here, holding this balustrade, listening to the boom of the surf against the shelving sand …
When Bea came into the room behind him, carrying the tray, he was able to come in from the balcony and smile at her with real happiness. He looked with pleasure around the room, at the two chairs pulled up to the hearth, the Scrabble board on the low table between them, and at the blue and yellow flames that danced over the bone-white salty wood. He took comfort from Mathilda’s books on the bookshelves and her bureau in the alcove and the security of the house all about him. He saw that Bea was watching him and laughed a little.
‘Ever feel that she’s here?’ he asked her. ‘Old Mathilda? I get the feeling of her sometimes, d’you see? It’s … comforting.’ He chuckled at the expression on Bea’s face. ‘Crazy? Is that what you think?’
‘Possibly.’ Bea went to fasten the window and draw the curtains, concealing her delight at the genuine expression of contentment on his face. ‘Probably. But for someone bordering on senile dementia you play a mean game of Scrabble. Best out of three games and the loser does the washing-up. Have you seen the toasting fork … ?’
EVENING ADVANCED ACROSS THE darkening water. The moon rose above a ragged wrack of black cloud, pouring its cold brilliance down upon the cove where the waves rushed in over the sand and the only sound was the eternal murmurings of the restless sea.
Other Early Novels by Marcia Willett
First Friends
A Friend of the Family
The Courtyard
Also by Marcia Willett:
A Week in Winter
A Summer in the Country
The Children’s Hour
The Birdcage
Echoes of the Dance
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
SECOND TIME AROUND. Copyright © 1998 by Marcia Willett. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
eISBN 9781429992718
First eBook Edition : April 2011
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Willett, Marcia.
Second time around / Marcia Willett.—1st St. Martin’s Griffin ed.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-0-312-30666-3
ISBN-10: 0-312-30666-0
1. Inheritance and succession—Fiction. 2. Home ownership—Fiction. 3. Country homes—Fiction. 4. Cornwall (England : County)—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6073.14235S43 2008
823’.914—dc22
2008026258
First published in Great Britain by Headline Book Publishing, a division of Hodder Headline PLC
First U.S. Edition: December 2008
Second Time Around Page 28
