‘Yes, art’s important – that goes without saying – but I just can’t agree that it’s more important than bringing up a baby. All the experts believe that what happens in a child’s first five years is crucial in determining whether it’ll be happy or not.’
‘So can’t Amy give up her job and ensure her own child’s happiness?’
‘No. They need two incomes to pay their hefty mortgage.’
‘But surely she can’t expect you just to sacrifice yourself?’
How could she explain that she saw it not as a sacrifice but more of a necessity; how express her deep desire to be intimately involved with her daughter and her grandchild, in order to break the chain of suffering the family had endured? Felix might dismiss that as some irrational whim.
‘Listen, darling, I had this dream last week. I wasn’t going to mention it but it may help you understand. I dreamt that Amy went through a dreadfully long and painful labour but, at the end of it, there was no baby – nothing at all. She was lying on the bed, her arms cradling empty air.’
He leaned forward and gently traced the curve of her cheek. ‘That was just your daytime worries, my sweet, magnified into a nightmarish scenario, which is totally unlikely in reality.’
‘I’m not so sure. Any labour can go wrong, and Amy’s already had a few problems. And, of course, she’s increasingly stressed about the whole Dubai thing, which can’t be good for her health – or the baby’s, come to that. And Hugo’s in such a state, he’s not being his usual supportive self so, honestly, Felix, she really does need me around.’
He sat frowning for a moment, as if trying to organize his thoughts. ‘OK, I can see you have to be there until the actual birth, and maybe for the first couple of months, just to put your mind at rest. But that’s no problem, actually, because it takes at least three months to buy any sort of property, and often a lot longer. Admittedly, the guy who owns the chapel is pretty keen to get it off his hands, because he plans to move to France, but even so I can’t see myself signing a contract until October at the earliest. So, assuming all goes smoothly, say we moved in the late autumn, would that be easier for you?’
Confused, uncertain, she scrambled to her feet. ‘Felix, I don’t know what to say. This has all come as quite a shock and I need more time to think.’
She walked blindly across the heather; suddenly wanting to be alone and away from his persuasive pressures. What answer could she possibly give to so intolerable a dilemma? Of course she burned to be an artist; to become part of an artists’ community and have people around to encourage and support her. And to be part of a couple was even more appealing – something she had craved since the seventies. And how could she not be tempted by the thought of having her own place, instead of being confined to a granny flat and dependent on Amy and Hugo? A converted chapel sounded wonderfully romantic and, if it were furnished with the same flair and originality as Felix’s London flat, it would make a magical home. Yet, however much she longed to say ‘an enormous yes’ to sex and art and Cornwall, such self-dedication seemed an unjustifiable luxury, compared with her clear-cut duty to her daughter and her grandchild.
She stumbled on a tussock, not looking where she was going; focusing entirely on the turmoil in her mind. If it came to a choice between her happiness and Amy’s, how could she put her own needs first? Yet, secretly and selfishly, she was just as avid for happiness as she was for sex. Indeed, the two were linked. Making love just now had flooded her with a wanton rapture nothing else could bring. But if Felix moved to Cornwall without her, he was bound to find another woman – someone free of ties – and she might never have sex again. A woman in her sixties was hardly likely to have lovers queuing up.
She stooped to pick a sprig of heather – heather for good luck. And, yes, she had been lucky to meet a man like Felix; a man who genuinely cared about her work; a man who didn’t expect his partner to be twenty years his junior. Which made it all the more deplorable that the relationship might have to end after only a few short months, instead of becoming something permanent that could transform the rest of her life.
She broke into a run, stumbling on the rough, uneven ground; her thoughts now switching to Silas. She was obliged to keep in touch with him, to ensure he fulfilled his roles as father and soon-to-be grandfather. And, since he was lamentably ill-suited to such roles, she would need to see him regularly – impossible if she were almost 300 miles away. And equally impossible to explain a move to Cornwall without arousing his anger and jealousy – or to mention Silas to Felix, without unleashing the same emotions.
Lurching to a halt, she flung herself down on the heather, envying the sheep, dotted like white boulders across the grass. They weren’t prey to agonizing conflicts; indeed, had nothing much to do except graze and munch and stare. Her attention was drawn to a ewe and her twin lambs, the pair so small and spindly, they had clearly been born late in the season. How sedate the mother looked, as she anxiously guarded her offspring, giving a bleat of alarm as she registered a human presence. At some distance from the trio was a larger and much podgier lamb, in no need of its mother, but still young enough to frisk around in a carefree fashion. As she watched, it suddenly leapt into the air; all four feet off the ground, as if exulting in its freedom, its perky joie-de-vivre.
‘Maria! Where are you?’
She started at the sound of Felix’s voice; swung round to see him further up the hillside but clambering down to find her. She sat stock-still; irresolute. He might already be expecting some decision on her part, but did she choose to be an encumbered mother-ewe, or a free and frisky lamb?
Chapter 23
‘KATE, ARE YOU busy?’
‘Am I ever busy?’ Kate laughed. ‘But you look loaded down. Want to come in for a coffee?’
‘Actually, I want to come in and sound off.’ Maria stepped into the hall and deposited her clutch of Sainsbury’s bags. ‘I’m absolutely livid! I’d just done all this shopping when my mobile rang and it was Amy saying Beatrice and Tom had cancelled – right at the last minute, would you believe? They were meant to be arriving this evening, and now they want Amy and Hugo to flog all the way to Shropshire instead. The last thing Amy needs at the moment is a long, exhausting drive on top of a full day’s work. And it’s even worse for Hugo, because he’s due to fly out to Dubai again, the very next day – the Monday. No wonder he’s tense, with all that to-ing and fro-ing.’
‘Have they fixed the date for the trial, then?’
‘No. Now they’re trying to reach an out-of-court settlement, which would obviously be better. But it’ll still be incredibly stressful, what with everyone haggling and arguing and issuing threats and counter-threats. And, as well as everything else, his present employers are putting the screws on, too.’
‘What, the Olympic project, you mean?’
‘Yes. They’re behind schedule, Hugo says, so they’re getting fed up with his absences and he has to keep inventing excuses for being away again. But, listen, going back to Beatrice and Tom, it’s thrown me, too, completely. You see, I’d promised Amy I’d take care of all the meals and now I’m landed with this load of fancy food I can’t possibly finish up in one weekend.’
‘Lord! I’m sorry.’ Kate ushered her into the sitting-room and coaxed her to sit down. ‘But why on earth did they change the plans?’
‘Oh, a whole lot of footling reasons, Amy said. Apparently, Beatrice had promised to read the lesson at their local church on Sunday, and her new neighbours are dying to meet her son, and it’s the weekend of the village fete and—’
‘But with all that going on, why in heaven’s name did they arrange to come to London in the first place?’
‘God knows! Between you and me, I suspect Beatrice is agoraphobic. She always wants to stay on her home territory and dreams up endless reasons why she should. And this time she has the perfect let-out – it’s Father’s Day, so Hugo has to spend it with his father.’
‘But I thought the whole point was they we
re spending it with you.’
‘Exactly. And I’ve made a special Father’s Day cake – stayed up late last night, so I could keep today free for shopping and cooking.’
‘I do agree it’s appallingly bad manners but, you know, it could just be a blessing in disguise.’
‘A blessing, when I’ve missed the chance of going down to Cornwall? Felix will be on the train right now and if Beatrice had rung earlier – as any half-decent person would – I’d be sitting there beside him. Hey!’ she said, springing to her feet. ‘It’s not too late, is it? If I threw some things in a case, I could catch the next fast train.’
‘Honestly, Maria, I wouldn’t recommend it. You’ve only just come back from Northumberland and, to be perfectly frank, you do seem in a bit of a state. I don’t mean about Beatrice and Tom – that would drive anyone bonkers – but this whole Cornwall thing. And if you dash after Felix and try to make a decision on a property, he may pressure you into something you could well regret later on.’
Maria slumped back on the sofa with a sigh of mingled exhaustion and frustration. ‘It’s not his fault, honestly. He’s not in any particular rush himself, but this wretched couple have appeared on the scene who are mad keen on the chapel. Apparently, they live close by and have viewed it twice already, so George is worried they may snap it up and pip Felix to the post. So he’s the one who talked Felix into going down today.’
‘Well, that’s OK for Felix – it’s his life and George is his friend – but you need more time to think.’
‘Look, there’s no way Felix would go ahead until I’ve seen the place for myself. But if I leave it much longer, there’s a genuine risk we’ll lose it.’
‘Maybe so, but I still think it’s extremely unwise to make a huge, life-changing decision when you’ve barely recovered from the upheaval of the burglary. Surely he must realize that you need a chance to simmer down a bit. What I suggest is that you take it easy this weekend and make the most of having the house to yourself.’
‘Well, I must admit, it’ll be almost a relief to have Amy and Hugo out of the way. Every time I see Amy, I feel an absolute brute for even thinking of letting her down, and Hugo’s been quite snappy since I got back. Oh, I know he’s very tense about the court case – in fact, he’s forever on the phone to Dubai – but I keep worrying that he’s also shocked about me having a lover.’
‘Maria, honestly, you’re nuts! You seem to think everyone’s like your mother and sees sex as a horrendous sin.’
‘Yes, that’s what Felix says but, you see, Hugo’s mother is pretty straitlaced too, so I must seem really flighty in comparison.’
‘She may be straitlaced, but she’s also damned selfish, messing everyone around like this.’
‘D’you think Hugo plans to tell her?’
‘Tell her what?’
‘About Felix.’
‘Oh, yes, I’m sure! Just as they’re sitting down to a nice quiet sherry in the ancestral home, he’ll regale her with all the details of your goings-on, en flagrante!’
Maria laughed, despite herself.
‘That’s better. You’ve been looking a real sad-sack. Let’s go and have that coffee and you can tell me more about how you got on up north.’
‘I’d love a coffee, but I won’t talk about that, if you don’t mind – or Cornwall. They both involve Felix and every time I think of him I feel more confused and torn. Anyway, I’d rather hear about you.’
‘There’s nothing much to tell, except Paul’s managed to change his usual Sunday flight to one first thing Monday morning, which is great for Clara and Polly, because it means we can celebrate Father’s Day. In fact, why don’t you join us, Maria? At least you’ll have some sort of celebration, then.’
‘No, I’d hate to intrude on a family thing.’
‘Don’t be daft! The girls would love it. And they’re planning a dance-display for their dad, so they’ll be really chuffed to have you in the audience.’
‘OK, but only if you let me do the cooking. It’ll be the perfect way to use up all that food.’
‘I wouldn’t hear of it. Anyway, life’s too short to cook so, knowing me, it’ll be mostly shop-bought stuff.’
‘Well, I insist on bringing the cake. Otherwise it will go to waste. And I’ll make the girls some gingerbread-men.’
‘You spoil them, Maria. Oh, and listen – I almost forgot – Paul wants to see some of your paintings. He’s thinking of buying one for his office.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, I was telling him about them and he seemed genuinely interested. I suspect he wants to impress his clients with a bit of real live modern art.’
‘Or shock them, more likely,’ Maria laughed, secretly elated at the thought of having a buyer – and a wealthy buyer at that. In fact, she felt a sudden urge to go back to her flat and start a new work, specifically for Paul. She wouldn’t need to be untrue to her vision, just more restrained and reflective: no hectic colours or plunging diagonals, but a sombre, subtle palette. The idea was a definite challenge so, having drained her coffee and thanked Kate for her advice, she set off home in a distinctly better mood.
Having mixed Chinese white with Antwerp blue, she laid a thin, translucent wash across the ground of Payne’s grey, then stood back to judge the effect. She was aiming for the colour of rain – an elusive, ghostly non-colour, austere and almost unearthly. No picture had ever taken her so long. Having worked on it most of Friday and all day Saturday, she had begun again this morning, at first light. She was no longer slapping on paint in her usual swift, impetuous fashion, but employing a more measured technique, slowly building up several thin, successive layers and allowing each to dry before adding the next. And the procedure had brought an unexpected bonus in that it seemed to calm and relax her, as if the unhurried pace and muted colours acted like a form of meditation.
However, she couldn’t keep her thoughts away from Felix and the chapel, because of his phone call yesterday, when he had described the place as a gem, with tall windows and a high ceiling that made it wonderfully light and thus perfect for two artists. And the very act of painting reminded her how much she needed a proper, decent-sized studio, with room for all her materials, as well as wall space to display her work. And there would be no more need to worry about the smells of turps and oil paint seeping into the rest of the house and making Amy nauseous. Her daughter had enough to contend with; what with backache and leg cramps and her increasing apprehension not only about the birth, but about the number of tasks she had still to complete at work before she started her maternity leave in a matter of just five weeks. Yet those very problems only made her feel more selfish for even considering a move to Cornwall. Felix had simply no idea how hard it would be to say ‘an enormous yes’.
Forcing her concentration back to the painting, she used her fingers to stipple the pale bluish wash with flecks of Flake white. Her mobile chose that moment to ring, so, before she could pick it up, she had to grab a rag and wipe her messy hands. But, despite the interruption, nothing could temper her exuberance at hearing her lover’s voice.
‘Darling, I know you’re working and I’m disturbing you again, but I’m missing you so badly, I have to make contact every now and then, just to keep me going. And, anyway – great news! The other prospective buyers have dropped out.’
‘What, the couple who were so desperately keen?’
‘Yes, but all their plans have changed. The wife’s mother’s just had a stroke and, although she was lucky to survive, it seems she’ll be permanently incapacitated and they’ve decided to move in with her, so they’ll be on hand to help. It’s rotten for them, but I can’t help being relieved as far as we’re concerned. You see, now they’re out of the running, the owner’s agreed to give me more time to make up my mind on the property. I told him I couldn’t possibly come to a decision until you’d had a chance to see it – and the whole area, of course. So I want to bring you down here the minute we’re both free.’
I
nstantly, the churning indecision flooded back. He was so loving and so decent, so concerned about her opinion, she could hardly admit that, were the matter left to her, she would put it in cold storage for at least the next six months. Already, though, he was pressing for a date.
‘I’ll be back in London on Tuesday and obviously I’ll have to stay to run the Friday class. But suppose we left the minute it’s over; went on straight from my flat to Paddington and—’
‘No, Friday’s Amy’s birthday and we’re having a little supper party to celebrate. I’ll be at the class, of course, but I’m afraid I’m busy the rest of the day. How about Saturday morning?’
‘Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m out on a walk and the reception’s pretty dire. Tell you what – I’ll wait till I’m further up the cliff-top, then try you again, OK?’
‘OK,’ she said, feeling close to panic at the thought of having to make a decision in less than a week’s time. It seemed a betrayal of her daughter to agree to view the property at all.
Until he phoned again, she was unable even to pick up her brush and just stared down at her palette, trying not to think of all the personal and professional advantages such a move would offer.
At its very first ring, she clicked on her mobile, her voice tense and harsh, as if a stone were lodged in her throat. ‘Actually, Saturday might be difficult, now I come to think of it. Could we possibly – Oh, I’m sorry, Silas, I thought it was—’
‘You sound odd. Are you OK?’
‘Yes, fine. Er, happy Father’s Day!’
‘That’s exactly why I’ve rung. I’ve never even noticed Father’s Day before – hardly knew it existed, to be honest – but this year I’ve been aware of all the cards in the shops and all the hype in general. And that’s made me think more deeply about being a father myself, and it doesn’t seem quite so daunting, to be honest.’
An Enormous Yes Page 26
