Just a Family Affair

by Veronica Henry

  She could hear herself making light of it even now.

  ‘It’s not as if we haven’t shared a room before. We’ve got nothing to hide from each other.’

  Of course, once he was in situ, then she could move in. It wouldn’t take much. She could remember his weaknesses. And she’d learnt an awful lot since then, courtesy of Alejandro.

  She popped her glass on the arm of the sofa, selected a magazine and pretended to be thoroughly engrossed while she waited. But despite her carapace of confidence she found it hard to concentrate. She took another sip of her drink, disconcerted to find that she cared so much. After all, she’d trained herself to be impenetrable over the past few years.

  She hadn’t realized quite how much the evening’s outcome mattered.

  Keith walked into the foyer of the Lygon Arms at two minutes past eight. He’d passed it on countless occasions, but had never actually been in, and he was charmed by what he found. It was understated and gracious, with a roaring log fire, stone walls, tapestries and a large table scattered with glamorous international magazines, which gave away the fact that only foreigners could really afford to stay here. It had the hushed air of genteel luxury; the rooms smelled of beeswax and lilies and wood-smoke. He worried that he might be underdressed in just a casual jacket, that he should have put a suit on, but the other guests he spied looked to be smart but casual. It was a country hotel, after all, not overly formal. But special nevertheless.

  Keith realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he and Ginny had gone somewhere like this to eat. They always ended up at the Chinese in Eldenbury or the Honeycote Arms. A sudden vision of her popped into his head, and he felt filled with remorse. He hadn’t been able to face saying goodbye properly this morning. He’d made his escape while she was in the shower. How cowardly could you get? He knew they’d arrived safely, because Mandy had phoned, but he’d made no effort to contact Ginny and make sure she was all right.

  It wasn’t long to go now, he told himself. By this time tomorrow he would know his fate. And when it was all over - if it was all over, and he got the all clear - then he could make it up to her. He’d bring her here, in fact. Pamper her, give her some space from the twins, give themselves some time to rediscover what they were all about. They were going to do a lot more of that, Keith decided.

  He found Sandra in a little snug, sitting on a sofa engrossed in a magazine. She stood up with a welcoming smile, dressed in a grey cowl-neck sweater dress and shiny brown leather boots, several strands of pearls strung round her neck. She looked very much at home, as if this was where she belonged, and Keith was once again amazed at how she had changed. Five years ago she would have stuck out like a sore thumb, wearing something garish and inappropriate and commenting in a loud voice on her surroundings and the other guests.

  ‘Isn’t it perfect here?’ She gave him a kiss on each cheek. ‘I’m thinking of taking up full-time residency.’

  Keith settled down in an armchair adjacent to the sofa she was occupying. It was deep and comfortable, and as she handed him a glass of champagne he felt himself relax. Strange though the situation was, this had been the right thing to do. Otherwise he would have found himself alone in a spookily empty Keeper’s Cottage with only the television to keep his mind off the horrors of the weekend ahead. He took a tentative sip. He mustn’t drink too much before his operation. He wanted to be as fit as possible.

  ‘The girls all arrived safely,’ Sandra told him. ‘I’ve got Alejandro keeping an eye so they don’t get into mischief.’

  ‘The whole thing is very generous of you.’

  She batted his comment away.

  ‘No point in the villa sitting empty.’ She peered at him. ‘You should have a few days there yourself. You look as if you could do with some sun.’

  Keith smiled gingerly.

  The waiter arrived with two leatherbound menus, and handed them one each. ‘Let me tell you the chef ’s special,’ he said.

  ‘I hope he is,’ quipped Sandra, with a girlish giggle. ‘I’ve seen the prices.’

  She was fizzing inside. This was going to be a wonderful evening; she could feel it in her bones.

  Keith escorted Sandra into the dining room with its huge vaulted ceiling and coats of arms on the wall. They were shown to a discreet table tucked away in the corner. Throughout the first two courses, they chatted, politeness gradually warming up into animation as a couple of glasses of excellent Riesling slipped down. Sandra was very amusing about the acquisition and subsequent sale of her clinics, describing how as a panic-stricken middle-aged woman she knew exactly how to prey on the vanity of the inhabitants of the Costa del Sol. Keith had to admire her.

  ‘Of course, I’ve kept the flagship,’ she told him. ‘It virtually runs itself. So now I’m looking to invest over here. Of course, there’s not so much sun, so there aren’t as many wrinkles. But there’s still a huge market. And the more people who succumb, the worse the ones who haven’t look.’

  ‘But not everyone can afford it,’ Keith pointed out.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m looking into payment plans. Low-interest loans. And of course the half-price introductory offer.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I approve.’ Keith somehow felt it was wrong, exploiting women’s vanity when the ageing process was inevitable.

  ‘If I don’t do it, somebody else will.’ Sandra speared her Gressingham duck with vigour. ‘And at least I make sure my staff are properly trained. There are a lot of cowboys out there. My standards are the very highest.’

  If the way she looked was anything to go by, thought Keith, then she wasn’t lying. ‘I must say,’ he admitted, ‘I admire you. I would never have guessed you had it in you.’

  ‘The overweight, gin-swilling Solihull housewife?’

  He hesitated. It was all right for her to say it, but not him. She grinned.

  ‘It’s all right. I know that’s what I was.’

  She put down her fork, suddenly serious.

  ‘Keith - I think I owe you an apology.’

  She put a hand on his. Keith swallowed nervously, feeling it would be rude to snatch it away. He felt as if he was being pinned to the table.

  ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘I treated you really badly. It’s taken me this long to realize. At the time, of course, I thought I was right.’

  ‘I’m not following you.’

  ‘When I left you. It was stupid. Cruel. Selfish. And you had done absolutely nothing to deserve it.’

  ‘Oh.’ Keith was surprised. He remembered only too well the barbed remarks she had slung at him on departure. About him being boring, married to his work, not having time for her. He had been hurt and bewildered. He had only ever tried to do his best for Sandra and Mandy. Sandra had been vociferous in her complaints at the time, so he was astonished that she was now admitting culpability.

  ‘I’ve had some time to think about it. And I want to explain,’ she was saying. ‘Not so that you can excuse me, because it was inexcusable. But I think you deserve an explanation. ’>

  ‘OK . . .’ Keith agreed cautiously, wondering what on earth was going to come out of the woodwork. He managed to extricate his hand from under hers in order to pick up his glass.

  ‘The long and the short of it is . . . I was bored. Out of my skull. Now that I’m fulfilled, now that I have challenges to face, risks to take and rewards to reap, it’s crystal clear. I had no real role in life. Nothing to get my teeth into, or to give me my own identity. You were so busy with work, Mandy was off at boarding school, and I was beside myself with the tedium of it all.’ She leaned in. ‘I don’t blame you for one minute, Keith. You had a business to keep afloat. It wasn’t your responsibility to make sure I had something to fill my days. It never occurred to me to find a job or start a little business. And I’m afraid that I mistook having affairs as the way out of my rut. I felt flattered. I felt alive. I thought fantastic! I can leave boring old Solihull and my boring old husband behind and be a new person.’<
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  She broke off. She seemed to be struggling to find the next words.

  ‘But you are a new person,’ Keith prompted her. ‘Look at you. You’re incredible.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said softly, and to his surprise he saw a tear hovering in the corner of one eye. She blinked rapidly to suppress it. ‘Most people would think I’ve got everything. The world at my feet. But there’s one thing I don’t have.’

  She looked up. Her eyes were filled with tears now, shiny bright. Her mouth trembled.

  ‘You,’ she said simply, then looked away as if the pain was too much. Keith watched in astonishment as she wiped her eyes with her napkin.

  ‘Me?’ he exclaimed, flabbergasted. ‘But . . . I thought . . . I would have thought . . . Sandra, look at you. You’re an incredibly glamorous and successful woman. You could have anyone you wanted.’

  ‘Except the one I really want.’ She had composed herself now. She managed a smile. ‘I bitterly regret it, Keith. I never fell in love with anybody else. I’ve only ever loved you. But it’s taken me five years to see what I lost, through my own stupidity.’

  She took hold of his hands across the table, and looked deep into his eyes. Keith could only think of one way out.

  ‘I’ve got cancer.’

  Sandra was shocked into silence for a good ten seconds. Her mouth dropped open, and she gaped like a goldfish.

  ‘Cancer?’ she stammered. ‘What of? And how long? Have you had it, I mean. Not how long have you got. My God, Keith . . .’ She took a slug of burgundy. All the colour had drained from her face.

  ‘It’s OK,’ Keith said calmly. ‘It might not be as bad as it sounds. It’s cancer of the prostate. It’s very common, and treatable if caught early enough.’

  And he went on to explain his diagnosis. And his prognosis. And tell her he was due to go in for his prostatectomy the very next day.

  ‘With any luck, I should be out by Monday. And no one need ever know there was anything wrong.’

  ‘But I did!’ said Sandra triumphantly. ‘You see. I knew there was something wrong, didn’t I?’

  Then she grabbed hold of both his hands.

  ‘You poor, poor darling. Don’t tell me you’ve been keeping this all to yourself?’

  ‘Well, yes—’

  ‘But you can’t go through all that worry on your own!’

  ‘I have. I didn’t want to burden anyone else. How could I tell Mandy, when she’s about to get married? And Ginny . . .’

  He fell silent. His reasons for keeping it quiet from Ginny were so complicated. To explain it to Sandra would mean voicing the one fear he had never spoken of: that he might not make it. Keeping his distance from Ginny was his way of protecting her.

  Sandra pursed her lips. ‘What kind of a relationship is that, when you can’t share the lows as well as the highs?’

  ‘There just didn’t seem any point in worrying Ginny till I knew there was something to worry about.’

  Sandra shook her head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe that she didn’t sense something was wrong. If I could see it, why couldn’t she?’

  Keith shrugged awkwardly. He felt very uncomfortable with his relationship being analysed like this. But perhaps that had always been his problem; an inability to bring unpleasant things out into the open, at least when they concerned him. It was odd - he found himself able to discuss the twins with Ginny, or her ex-husband, and offer very practical advice. But when it came to Keith Sherwyn, he was a closed book.

  ‘I know it seems odd,’ he went on to defend his decision. ‘But I felt the fewer people who knew about it the better. I didn’t want to spoil the wedding. Surely you understand that?’

  Thoroughly shaken by Keith’s revelation, Sandra excused herself and went into the ladies. Her hands were trembling slightly with the shock as she re-applied her lipstick in the mirror.

  She would have to completely rethink her strategy. Obviously it was quite out of the question to lure Keith upstairs. Sex was going to be the last thing on his mind right now. Christ, how horrible. Cancer. She felt very frightened all of a sudden. In all her meticulous planning, she hadn’t seen this one coming, and she felt her confidence draining away. Even she couldn’t outmanoeuvre the big C. Keith’s future was out of her hands. Some greater being than Sandra had already decided what was going to happen. But maybe she could still use the situation to her advantage. He would be feeling vulnerable. Frightened. Poor, brave Keith. There weren’t many people who would suffer in silence like he had.

  Well, Sandra would look after him. She could do tender loving care. At least she thought she could. She’d never done it before, but if that’s what it took . . . And one thing was for sure - he wasn’t going to get any from Ginny. While the cat was away . . .

  She clicked the lid back on her lipstick, fluffed up her hair, and practiced a look of loving concern in the mirror. Loving, with a hint of anguish.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  She hadn’t noticed another guest coming out of a cubicle to wash her hands.

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ snapped Sandra.

  ‘Sorry. You looked as if you were in pain.’

  ‘I’ve never felt better.’ And she snatched up her bag and walked out of the cloakroom.

  By the time pudding was cleared away and they had nibbled half-heartedly at some local cheeses, Keith found he had completely unburdened himself to Sandra. It was such a relief to be able to share his problems with someone. And in order to deflect her attention away from his impending operation, he told her about the problems at the brewery. He left out the more confidential and lurid details about illegitimate children and demands for large sums of money, but confided in her that they were having to sell.

  ‘I don’t have the strength or the enthusiasm to carry on any more,’ he admitted sadly. ‘And if my illness does prove serious, I’ll be better off without it. At least this way I can come out with a share of the profits from the sale.’

  ‘If there are any profits,’ Sandra pointed out. ‘No one in their right mind would pay top dollar for it in its current state, by the sound of things.’

  ‘Actually, we’ve already had an offer.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Well, an expression of interest,’ he corrected himself. ‘And we haven’t negotiated a figure yet,’ he said carefully. ‘But they’ve given us a very interesting proposal outlining what they’d like to do.’

  ‘If they can get it at a knock-down price.’ Sandra didn’t see the point in beating about the bush.

  Keith clutched the stem of his brandy glass, wondering if Sandra was right. He’d been so preoccupied he hadn’t really focused on Honeycote Ales recently. He’d just been relieved there might be a taker. The prospective purchaser probably was toying with them, teasing them, tantalizing them, all the time ready to pounce and screw them right down, knowing that Honeycote Ales needed them more than they needed Honeycote Ales.

  Sandra was staring rather intently at her oat cake. She seemed lost in thought.

  ‘Sandra?’

  She looked up, frowning. ‘Really, all you need is someone who will buy out Mickey and James.’

  ‘And me,’ Keith reminded her. ‘I want out too.’

  ‘No, you don’t.’ Sandra shook her head in disagreement. ‘You only think you do because of what you’re going through at the moment. You love that brewery. So really, what we’re looking at is finding someone who’ll buy out the Liddiard brothers, then invest enough to get the brewery back on its feet. In order to make it work for you and Patrick and Mandy. The Sherwyn-Liddiard dynasty,’ she finished with a flourish.

  ‘I suppose so.’

  Sandra felt a flutter of excitement in her stomach. She couldn’t believe the way everything had fallen into her lap this evening. Not that she would have wished cancer on Keith, she told herself hastily, but she had a feeling that he was going to be all right. With this latest news, however, not only did she have an emotional hold on him, but possibly a financial one as well
.

  She picked up her glass.

  ‘It’s almost as if it’s meant to be,’ she said dreamily. ‘With Patrick and Mandy marrying next weekend, I can’t think of a more wonderful wedding present.’

  Keith didn’t know if it was the rich food, the stress, the brandy, or the implications of what she had just said, but he definitely felt the room start to spin.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Honeycote Ales,’ she finished triumphantly. ‘A bit difficult to wrap, maybe. But a damn sight more useful than a four-slice toaster.’

  It took all of Alejandro’s powers of persuasion to stop Ginny from helping with the washing up, once everyone had eaten their fill.

  ‘But you prepared everything!’ she protested.

  ‘It’s my job. And you are on holiday.’ Alejandro steered her firmly towards the sofa, where the others were already installed in front of the plasma television.

  ‘Don’t complain, Mum. Make the most of it.’ Sasha was flipping through the channels with the remote.

  ‘It just seems rude.’ Ginny sat down reluctantly, piqued that nobody else seemed to have any problem with him doing the donkey work. Kitty was sitting at Caroline’s feet, painting her toe nails - ‘I can’t reach them myself,’ Caroline had complained - while Mandy was flicking through the last of the magazines they had bought on the plane. Eventually, though, she began to relax and became absorbed in the Harrison Ford movie Sasha had settled on.

  When the last plate had been put away, Alejandro came over. ‘Anybody wants to come for a drink?’

  ‘It’s a bit late, isn’t it?’ said Ginny, looking at her watch. It was gone half eleven.

  Alejandro laughed. ‘Everybody in Puerto Banus is just starting to come out to play.’