At Home with the Templetons

by Monica McInerney

  ‘I’m begging you.’

  There was a sigh. ‘You’ve got one day. If you’re not back in the press box at start of play on Thursday, you’re sacked. Or you’re not going to England for next year’s Ashes. Whichever I decide first.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  In London, Henry was having a difficult conversation. It was his second difficult conversation of the day. Talking to Eleanor had been hard enough. While he’d soon established the children were fine, it was clear within seconds she was angry at him. Still. Even more so. Her voice wasn’t so much icy as arctic. She didn’t waste time on polite conversation. Once she confirmed he was in London, she insisted he drop whatever he was there to do and ‘present himself’ at her house at noon. She’d come home between lessons to see him. They had something extremely important to discuss.

  ‘But my flight back to San Francisco leaves at two.’

  ‘Change it. This is more important.’

  ‘We can’t discuss it over the phone?’

  ‘No, Henry, we can’t.’

  ‘I do have other plans —’

  ‘Be there, Henry.’

  Now Adele was being as frosty. She’d started to ice up the moment he told her he needed to change his flight to attend an unexpected meeting.

  ‘But that means you won’t be back in time for the dinner tonight. You know how important it is to me. What’s this meeting about? Who’s it with?’

  ‘An old business associate of mine.’

  ‘Male or female?’

  ‘Female.’

  ‘An old girlfriend, is that what you mean?’

  He was starting to wish he’d been more honest with her from the start. ‘Adele, darling, please. How busy do you think I’ve been in my romantic life? She’s a business associate. We were partners in a property project some years ago and a few issues have come up that we need to discuss.’

  ‘What property project?’

  Base a lie on the truth, Henry. ‘An apartment complex called Templeton Hall, in north London.’

  ‘Residential or commercial?’

  ‘Residential but possibly commercial. That’s what she and I need to discuss. Adele, my love, I’m sorry about tonight. Why don’t you take one of your girlfriends instead?’

  ‘I have an MBA and I’m a Harvard graduate, Henry. Don’t patronise me. Are you having an affair with this “business associate”?’

  ‘No, I assure you.’

  ‘Do you intend to?’

  ‘No. I assure you of that as well.’

  ‘Are you planning to finish things between us?’

  ‘Adele —’

  ‘Henry, do you think I’m a fool? You were with someone else when you and I met. I know you’re capable of it. Would you please just be straight with me and save us both a lot of trouble?’

  ‘I promise that breaking up with you is the last thing on my mind.’

  ‘Good.’ Her voice changed and became girlish. ‘Hurry home, then. I miss you.’

  In the taxi on the way to Eleanor’s house later that morning, both conversations echoing in his mind, Henry took the opportunity to close his eyes. He was getting too old for all of this. But what was the alternative? Slow down? Give up all that gave him pleasure in life – the thrill of business dealings, chasing new dreams, and yes, wooing beautiful women? No, perhaps not just yet. He was only in his early sixties, after all. It was just a matter of keeping his mind sharp. His eye on the ball, as the saying had it.

  He’d known from an early age that succeeding not just in business but in life meant being decisive. At school, the only scholarship student among classes filled with children of privilege, he’d learnt to make the best use of what he did have – wit, charm, a sharp mind. It wasn’t a matter of being calculating or self-serving. It was planning ahead, like playing chess. Weighing up options and making the best available moves. Recognising opportunities when they presented themselves and manoeuvring into position to gain the most advantages wherever possible.

  And that had been the story of his life, hadn’t it? Seizing the day, the opportunity, whenever it appeared, in work or in life. Sometimes it was luck, sometimes by design, sometimes it was a genuine emotional response. Meeting Eleanor, for example. That truly had been love at first sight for him. Of course he and Eleanor had had their ups and downs over the years. What married couple didn’t? And all right, he had to admit his own role in some of those difficulties, but surely he’d behaved no worse than many other men of their acquaintance. And no matter what had happened between them in the end, they’d produced and raised four beautiful children together. In hindsight, their real problems had begun when tensions in his working life began to spill into his home life. He’d started to overstretch himself, take on too many clients, choose the wrong clients, make bad decisions, one or two bad judgement calls. Ruffle a few feathers. Was it any wonder he’d seized the opportunity of a fresh start, not just for him but the whole family, when it presented itself? Hadn’t Englishmen been doing that for years, after all? Heading to Australia to reinvent themselves?

  Even after the difficult years that followed, when Eleanor read him the riot act, when he was forced to work harder than he had ever worked until he had paid off every bill – every bill that she knew about, and more besides, unfortunately – he had only fond memories of the years in Australia, the fun it had been for the whole family. Even Eleanor had loved it there, at the start, at least, even if by the end she —

  ‘Thirteen pounds, thanks, sir.’

  The taxi driver had to ask him twice. Henry hadn’t realised they’d arrived. He’d never visited Eleanor at this house and didn’t recognise the area. He passed over a twenty-pound note, told the driver to keep the change and got out.

  Ten minutes later, Henry was still waiting for Eleanor to explain the reason for this meeting. Her behaviour was unsettling him, not that he allowed her to see it. He’d expected her to be angry at him from the moment he walked up the cobbled garden path and she opened her blue-painted front door. What he hadn’t expected was this strange self-possession.

  She’d casually exchanged greetings, as if it had been yesterday they’d last seen one another, not eight years previously. She barely acknowledged the compliment when he told her – truthfully – that she looked very well. She’d offered him tea, even poured it for him. As they took their seats opposite one another in her small but elegant living room, she filled him in briefly on the children. He felt a twinge of guilt that he didn’t see them more often, but she didn’t even censure him about that. He was surprised – shocked, even – when she mentioned that Gracie was currently in Australia, at Templeton Hall, in fact. Surely he should have been told about that? He hid it well, though, as he also hid his reaction to Eleanor’s news that Hope had been going too, until she had fallen down her stairs the night before and broken her leg.

  ‘Fortunately her bank account is in such good shape these days she’s been able to afford a very luxurious private hospital,’ Eleanor informed him, pouring more tea into their cups.

  ‘That’s good,’ he said, still wary, wondering why Eleanor felt the need to tell him all this.

  ‘It’s a terrible shame, really. She’d been so looking forward to going back to Templeton Hall. For her own recovery but also for another reason, it turns out. When I spoke to her this morning, when I told her that as a matter of fact you and I were meeting today, she got rather excited. It turns out she has a business proposition for us, Henry. To do with Templeton Hall.’

  ‘That’s why you contacted me?’

  ‘Not exactly, no. But isn’t it perfect timing?’ Eleanor took a sip of her tea. ‘She wants to know whether you and I would consider leasing Templeton Hall to her on a long-term basis, so she can establish a drug and alcohol rehabilitation centre there. It’s ideal, she told me. Beautiful, in an isolated setting, the right size. There’s a fortune to be made in that industry, apparently. What a shame we didn’t know that. All these years it’s been lying empty over ther
e.’

  Henry was even more wary now. He didn’t know Eleanor in this mood.

  ‘Perhaps we could ask her to prepare some paperwork for us,’ he said, trying to buy himself some thinking time.

  ‘Perhaps we could.’ Eleanor put down her cup. ‘Henry, the reason I’ve asked you here today is to discuss what we’ll do with the Hall when we die.’

  ‘Die? Are you ill? Have you had bad news?’

  ‘No, Henry, I’m perfectly well. But I am getting older and I do want to update my will. And as Templeton Hall is the main shared asset between us, it’s been on my mind a great deal. Especially since recent events have made it clear that none of the children appear to be interested in it very much, despite its place in their family history.’

  ‘They don’t? Not even Gracie?’

  ‘Even Gracie. In fact, she rang last night to tell me she’s left the Hall. She said she’d realised it had been a special place but she didn’t need to spend any more time there.’

  ‘That surprises me.’

  ‘Does it, Henry? I suppose it would. It’s not as if you’ve shown much interest in your children recently, is it? How long since you’ve seen Audrey, for example? Charlotte?’

  ‘We talk occasionally. But really, Eleanor, New Zealand? Chicago? Ireland? The children have hardly stayed still themselves.’

  ‘It’s always someone else’s fault, Henry, isn’t it?’ Eleanor stood up. ‘But let’s leave any discussion about the children for another time, shall we? You and I have more pressing matters today.’ She picked up a folder from the small table beside her and put it in front of him. ‘This, for example.’

  He hesitated to pick it up. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Perhaps you can tell me.’

  He opened it. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He didn’t say anything.

  ‘What is it, Henry?’

  ‘It’s a lease.’

  ‘Yes, Henry. It’s a lease.’

  ‘I thought I had the only copy of it.’

  ‘Then you thought wrong. Your appalling filing was always going to be your downfall, wasn’t it? You obviously took a copy and hid it, not very well, in a folder in your filing cabinet at Templeton Hall. Did you ever wonder what I would think, or what one of your children might think, if we found it?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Tell me out loud what it is, Henry, would you? Even after all these years, I think I need to hear it from you to truly believe it.’

  He paused. ‘It’s the lease for Templeton Hall. A twenty-year lease.’ He didn’t lift his eyes from the paperwork in front of him.

  ‘Except it’s not Templeton Hall, Henry, is it? Because we had no right to call it that. Because it had nothing to do with your family at all, did it?’

  He looked up then. ‘Eleanor —’

  ‘You didn’t inherit it, Henry, did you? Your ancestors never went anywhere near Australia. You leased it, as some kind of hurried escape route, from one of your clients. That old man in Yorkshire, I’m presuming. You leased it, then you came home to me and you lied and you lied and you’ve kept lying. Why, Henry? Why?’

  ‘Please, Eleanor, don’t shout. Calm down. There’s a perfectly rational explanation.’

  She gave a short laugh. ‘Calm down? A rational explanation? How can there be? You not only uprooted us all, not only made us go to the other side of the world to run a family business that had absolutely no basis in fact, not only wasted the last of my inheritance on extravagant and pointless renovations —’

  ‘Eleanor —’

  ‘But all of it, all of it, was based on a lie. You must have known I’d never have agreed to any of it, if I’d known you were only leasing the Hall.’

  ‘Of course I knew that. That’s why I had to lie about it.’

  ‘ “Had to lie”? So once again, it wasn’t your fault? I made you lie, or otherwise we couldn’t have done it?’ She wasn’t shouting now. Her voice was cold. ‘Did you even think for a minute what the repercussions might be? Think how the children might feel when they learnt the truth? And of course that’s why we couldn’t sell it when we were in such debt, wasn’t it? It wasn’t ours to sell.’ She laughed then, a short, bitter laugh. ‘Tell me, Henry, have you still been paying for that lease? All this time it’s been empty?’

  The briefest of shrugs from Henry. ‘It was a watertight contract. I couldn’t break it.’

  ‘So even more money down the drain? What has it been, Henry? Tens of thousands each year, to keep the Hall empty? Had you gone completely mad? Lost all sense? Did you never even think of telling me the truth?’

  ‘And worry you more? Eleanor, of course not. But now I see that perhaps I should have.’ He smiled. ‘You see how much I needed you? You always did curb my worst excesses.’

  She swept the folder onto the floor, her fury obvious. ‘Don’t even try to flatter me, Henry Templeton. Keep your false compliments and your lies to yourself. No, in fact, don’t. Take them to my sister. I hope you do sub-let the Hall to her, Henry. You deserve each other, with your lies and deceit. I hope you make a fortune out of her. I hope she opens her latest money-grabbing clinic and I hope the entire building collapses on her. On you both.’

  ‘Eleanor, you don’t mean that. We had some very happy times there. Surely you remember? Please don’t rewrite history.’

  ‘What history? Our entire time there was built on a foundation of lies. Your lies. And how did it end, Henry? Can you remember? Will I remind you? It ended badly. Badly.’

  ‘At first, yes, but all our debts are paid now, aren’t they? And I planned to tell you all one day, Eleanor. Of course I did. But what was the point until the lease was due for renewal? And I suppose I always hoped deep down that we might even renew the lease again, go back, start up the tours again, if not all the family, even one or two of us. Gracie, especially. It was such a special time for us as a family, Eleanor, wasn’t it? Such fun at times. Please don’t be too angry.’

  ‘Don’t be too angry? You want me to laugh this off? You think it was all right to lie not just to me, but to all of us? Your own children?’

  ‘It wasn’t so much a lie as an elaborate story. There’s a difference, surely. Eleanor, please, let’s not be like this.’

  Eleanor tightly crossed her arms. ‘You’re right, Henry. Let’s keep it as nice as can be.’

  Henry stood up too, smiling, ignoring the fact she had taken a step away from him. ‘Eleanor, how did it get so bitter between us?’

  ‘Let me think,’ Eleanor said, tilting her head to one side. ‘Was it the first time you were unfaithful to me? Or the tenth time? Was it when I first realised you’d lied to me about the money we owed, the deals you’d done, the real trouble we were in? Was it when I found the lease for the Hall, when I realised you’d not just lied to me but to our children? Or was the final straw really eight years ago, when I discovered you’d slept with Nina?’

  Henry’s smile disappeared. ‘You know about that?’

  ‘Yes, Henry. I found out about that the same day Nina told me her son would never walk again because of an accident caused by our children. The perfect circumstances for such a conversation.’ Eleanor’s tone was still mild, her face composed. ‘How long had it been going on between the two of you? Will you tell me that? The entire time we lived there?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  She gave a soft laugh. ‘ “Of course not?” Because you would never do such a thing? Henry, what does it matter any more? Can’t you tell me the truth now, at least?’

  ‘Eleanor —’

  ‘Do you know what shames me the most, Henry? Not about you, but about myself? That up until the day in Rome that Nina told me about the two of you, if you’d asked if you could come back to me, I’d have said yes. When Spencer rang to tell me he and Gracie and Tom had been in an accident, all I wanted to do was ring you. I wanted to go through it all with you. I wanted you there with me and I knew for sure then that I’d never stopped loving you, as hard as it was so many times. It’s b
een like a weakness in me, Henry, that I’ve loved you no matter how badly you treated me. I’d even decided that same day I wanted to try and make it work with you again. I hoped that you weren’t with anyone else. But then I discovered you had been. That you possibly still were. And not just anyone else. You’d been with Nina. My friend Nina.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘Oh, really? You just happened to be in Australia? Just happened to bump into each other at Templeton Hall one afternoon? Happened to fall into bed together?’

  ‘That’s exactly what happened.’

  ‘No, Henry! No more lies.’ Her voice was suddenly loud. ‘Don’t you ever get sick of it yourself, twisting yourself up further and further into these layers of deceit?’

  ‘Eleanor, it was just a brief thing with Nina.’

  ‘You never saw her again afterwards?’ At his nod, she continued. ‘But you promised her you’d be back, didn’t you?’

  Henry’s silence was his answer.

  Eleanor was very still now. ‘Then it wasn’t just me you hurt, Henry. Because of you, because of whatever promises you made to Nina and never honoured, I think Nina chose to punish not you, not me, but our daughter, Henry. She cut off all contact between Gracie and Tom, and now I think I know another reason why. It wasn’t just about the accident, about Tom’s injuries. It was because of what you had done to her.’

  ‘Eleanor —’

  ‘Do you remember Gracie after that accident, Henry? Do you remember her pleading with both of us to contact Nina, to help her get in touch with Tom? To my shame, I didn’t. I could have, but I didn’t. And Gracie’s heart has been broken ever since.’

  ‘I don’t accept that. It was an accident. She and Tom were just children.’

  ‘Henry, I was nineteen when I met you. The same age Gracie was when she fell in love with Tom. I know that love like that can be real and lasting. I loved you then and stupidly, I kept loving you, no matter what you did. And what good did it do me?’ Eleanor began to cry then, sobs from somewhere deep inside her. Henry hesitated only a moment, then moved towards her. Like two jigsaw pieces, their two bodies long-familiar with each other, he opened his arms and she stepped into them, her body moulding into his.