by Debby Holt
‘That is depressing on so many levels.’
‘The other’s a very dishy bloke who runs a holistic garden-design business. He’s bringing a book out and he has a great name too: Xander Bullen… Why are you staring at me like that? Anna?’
Anna was aware she had the kettle in her hand. She put it down. ‘Do you still have the magazine? Can I see it?’
Olivia stood up and went across to one of the carrier bags. She pulled out a folder and brought it back to Anna. ‘I tore it out this morning. He’s very photogenic, don’t you think?’
Anna stared down at the photograph and swallowed hard. ‘Olivia,’ she said, ‘if you make a programme about this man I will never speak to you again.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
Felix was about to leave the office when he had a call from Freya.
‘I need some Parmesan,’ she said, ‘and good red wine! We are celebrating!’
He bought a bottle of Fleurie near Bristol Temple Meads and had to run to get the train. He was lucky: five more seconds and he’d have missed it. He was even luckier to find a seat. The young woman beside him was engrossed in a magazine. The words SALLY CHEATS ON RICK! were emblazoned above a photo of – presumably – soap-opera Sally on the phone in a quite ridiculously furtive pose; behind her, a man – presumably Rick – sat reading a paper in blissful ignorance.
He would buy the Parmesan at Darrowbridge. He wondered what it was they were celebrating. Oh God, he thought, it couldn’t be the anniversary yet? But, of course, it couldn’t. They’d married in September. At some point in July, it would be thirty-one years since he’d first met Freya. He couldn’t recall the exact date but he could picture the occasion as if it were yesterday.
He’d gone to a friend’s wedding. He had sat in the church, keeping a place for his sister who, as usual, was late. And then this beautiful girl had walked down the aisle in a little pink suit which showed off her tiny waist and hips and her long slender legs to perfection. She stopped by his pew, pushed back her blonde hair and asked, ‘Is this seat taken?’
‘I was saving it for you,’ he’d said, which was totally out of character and quite absurd but he felt as if it was true.
At the reception he stood talking to the bride and glanced across the room. The girl was surrounded by a trio of male guests vying for her attention and she smiled suddenly at him. At the time he couldn’t believe he had been the intended recipient. She was way out of his league. But then, later still, she came up to him and asked, ‘Shall we see each other again?’ and that was it. He was done for.
Alighting from the train, he put the Fleurie in his car and walked on towards the small supermarket. He bought the Parmesan and was about to head back to the station car park when he saw Pam’s next-door neighbour, Percy Jenner, along with his small pug, Serge. They made an incongruous pair and the sight of them together always made Felix smile. Percy, a skilled plasterer before his retirement, was a thin, wiry man with curly grey hair. His pet was a tiny, dainty little animal who looked like the perfect lapdog. Percy’s wife, Elaine, had acquired him four years ago and – mistaking him for a French bulldog – given him a suitably foreign name. Three months later, she died of heart failure while undergoing what was supposed to be a routine operation.
Felix had a lot of time for Percy. After his wife’s death, he had taught himself to cook and kept their cottage spotless. He and Elaine were childless and had been devoted to each other. Now Percy was devoted to Serge. Tonight, he told Felix, he and Serge had walked along the river and spotted a heron.
‘Do you want a lift back?’ Felix asked. ‘I have my car at the station.’
Serge looked up at Felix. Serge looked as if he’d very much like a lift.
‘We’re going to the graveyard,’ Percy said, ‘but thank you for the offer. It’s a good evening for a walk. Will you thank Freya for the broad beans? She dropped them in yesterday. Tell her I had some last night. Your wife’s a very kind lady.’
‘She is,’ Felix said. ‘And I’ll be sure to pass on the message.’
Percy was right, he thought, it was a good evening for a walk. On an impulse he turned and walked on to the path by the river. He didn’t see a heron but he spotted a very unusual bird on the water. It was small and black with a bright orange beak and tiny beady eyes.
He sat down on the bench and wondered what it was about water that was so soothing. Perhaps it was the fact that its inhabitants – the ducks, the elusive heron and the funny little black bird – all had such a simple life, paddling along, foraging for food, enjoying the sunlight. Of course, for all he knew, their lives weren’t simple at all. Just now, for instance, the funny little black bird was squawked at by two hostile green and white ducks and emitted a surprisingly guttural squawk of his own. For all Felix knew, the funny little black bird was a lonely creature desperate for friends.
He should get back. Freya would be waiting for him. The truth was that Felix didn’t want to go home. The truth was that Felix would like to stay here, open the Fleurie, drink the whole bottle and watch the ducks and the poor little black bird.
‘What do u think?’
Tess stared at the hopeful text and knew she was not yet ready to answer it. She should never have left it to Rachel. She had only herself to blame. As she entered her house – her house for another two weeks – she greeted the cats and said, ‘Yes, hello, you two, I’ll feed you now!’
She went through to the kitchen and gazed at the royal blue tiles, the double sink and the wide breakfast bar. She felt like Eve taking a last look at Eden before being thrown out into the wilderness.
She knew she had been exceptionally lucky to live here. Eight months ago, Rachel’s brother, an insanely successful actor, had invited her and Rachel to move in, for a tiny rent, on condition they looked after his cats while he was filming in the States. The small terraced house was a stone’s throw from London Fields with its collection of artisan food shops and cool little coffee bars. She and Rachel had felt as if they’d died and gone to Heaven. And now Rachel’s brother was coming home and Hell was on its way.
This afternoon Tess had gone to see the flat that would soon be her home. The building was in an unexceptional if noisy street near Fulham Broadway. As soon as Tess unlocked the front door she was hit by the pungent aroma of cat. She liked cats, she enjoyed looking after Rachel’s brother’s two, but the smell here was something else, this was the smell of a very sick cat, possibly one on the verge of decomposition. She walked up the first lot of stairs and let herself in through the mud-coloured door. Inside there was a narrow corridor with a small, dark kitchen on the left and a small, dark bedroom on the right. A little further along, there was a small, dark bathroom on one side and a tiny bedroom on the right. And that was it.
She couldn’t help wondering if Rachel would have seized on this place so readily if it weren’t for the fact that she spent a great deal of time with her boyfriend who had a far more salubrious flat in Putney. To be fair to Rachel, given their budget, it was always going to be difficult to find pleasant accommodation in central London. Tess’s income was modest and Rachel had had to take a drop in salary since she worked for an events company that had too few events to organise. The rent here was remarkably cheap, though now Tess had seen it, it seemed not remarkable enough.
Less than a fortnight ago, Tess had stood with her back to the River Tweed, gazing at the enormous majesty of Abbotsford. Already, that seemed like another life. Now, sitting in Rachel’s brother’s kitchen with the cats down at her feet, she made a decision. She took out her phone and called up a number. After what seemed like an eternity a familiar voice said, ‘This is Maggie Cameron speaking.’
‘Oh, Grandma,’ Tess said, ‘I’m so glad it’s you. I just thought I’d ask: I don’t suppose that job’s still going in the summer?’
Freya opened the door and beamed at Pam. ‘What a nice surprise!’ she said. ‘I thought you were Felix. He should have been here ages ago.’
‘I’m sure
you’re cooking supper. I’m on the scrounge. I need three eggs…’
Pam was wearing her green dress today. She had three work dresses: green, grey and black, which she wore in strict rotation, in order to save time otherwise wasted on choosing what to wear. When her beloved Henry died eighteen months ago, she lost a great deal of weight and her dresses looked like tents blowing in the wind. Freya had suggested a belt and gave her a leather one with a brass buckle. It became an essential part of Pam’s working wardrobe and these days she looked rather Bohemian.
‘Come on through,’ Freya said. ‘Let’s have a drink. Felix is late and I’m dying to tell someone my news.’
‘Just half a glass,’ Pam said. ‘I have a lot of cooking to do tonight.’
Freya sat her down at the table while she sorted out eggs and wine. ‘I’ve been investigating a client’s ancestor,’ she said. ‘Her name was Mary. She had an eighteen-year-old son and eight-year-old twin boys. And then…Are you happy with Chardonnay?…I discovered that she murdered her twins and then killed herself. But there seemed to be no motive. Why would a woman who’s brought up one strapping great son want to kill her small twins? And, by the way, she doesn’t just kill them in a nice, gentle way…’
‘Can you kill someone in a nice, gentle way? Freya, that’s enough. I need to be sober.’
‘I suppose you could wait till they’re sleeping and put pillows on their faces. That would be quite gentle, don’t you think? Whereas Mary poisons her boys with prussic acid and then takes it herself. The question is: Why?’
‘She had to be mad.’
Freya shook her head. ‘Eight years after Mary died, her husband, Samuel, still employed his long-standing housekeeper, Maud Harries. According to the records I found today, he also had a sixteen-year-old stable boy called Peter Riley Harries. He was born in the same year as the twins. Do you see what I mean?’
‘I’m sorry. You’ve lost me.’
‘He had to be the illegitimate son of Samuel. Why else would he be given the name of Riley? I reckon Mary found out and killed herself and her twins in a fit of jealous fury.’
‘She had to be mad. No one would do such a thing otherwise.’
‘I know. But it fits, you see, it really fits.’ She heard the front door slam and called out, ‘Felix! We’re in here!’
When Felix saw Pam, he beamed. ‘Pam! This is a treat!’ He came over and kissed her cheek. ‘Are you staying for supper?’
‘No, no, I came over to borrow some eggs. I had a call from Simon this afternoon.’
Simon was Pam’s only child and could do no wrong. Felix put the Parmesan and the red wine on the table. ‘How is Simon?’ he asked. ‘I haven’t seen him for months.’
‘He’s very well. He rang me at work this afternoon and asked if he and Naomi could come down tomorrow night. He says they have something to tell me. It has to be wedding bells, don’t you think? So I thought I’d make a special cake tonight and then I saw I had no eggs.’
Felix accepted a glass of wine from Freya and took a seat by Pam. ‘You approve of Naomi, don’t you?’
‘She’s perfect for Simon. They climbed Kilimanjaro last year. Naomi got altitude sickness and vomited for hours but she still said she adored every minute of it. I loved Henry with all my heart but if he’d ever asked me to climb Mount Kilimanjaro I’d have told him I couldn’t do it. Fortunately, he was quite happy with Swanage.’
Felix laughed. ‘It is good to see you. Won’t you stay to supper?’
‘There’s quite enough,’ Freya assured her.
‘No, really, I have so much to do.’ Pam finished her drink and stood up. ‘Thank you for the wine, Freya, and the eggs. I’ll let you know what Simon has to tell me.’
‘I’ll see you out,’ Felix said.
Freya heard the two of them chatting in the hall and then a low rumble of laughter from Felix. When he came back to the kitchen, he reached for his wine and said, ‘I’m sorry Pam couldn’t stay.’
‘I could see that,’ Freya said lightly. ‘Now you’ll have to make do with me.’
‘Freya!’ Felix protested.
She put the water on for the pasta and then turned. ‘I’m not stupid, Felix. I know you’re not happy at the moment.’
‘No,’ he agreed, ‘but I’m working on it.’
‘Can I help?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
She began tearing up pieces of lettuce for the salad. She’d known the answer before she asked the question. He never liked discussing the strange moods that settled on him like ash.
‘So tell me,’ he said, ‘what exactly are we celebrating?’
For a moment she had no idea and then she nodded and told him about Mary Riley and if he wasn’t really interested he made an adequate job of appearing to be.
* * *
Way back in the Surrey days, long before Maggie had even heard the word ‘commune’, she and Philip lived in a street of solid suburban houses. Each one had a long rectangular garden at the back. One morning Maggie had woken at six. Going across to the window, she spotted Linda next door, dressed in jeans and jumper, digging up a clump of stinging nettles. Two days earlier, Linda and Derek had welcomed back their pale-faced son from university. Within a few hours he’d been rushed off to hospital with acute peritonitis. Maggie was not overly surprised to see Linda out working at such an early hour. When Linda was troubled, she always found solace in her garden.
Thirty-five years later, she continued to do so. Tonight, Maggie joined her on a slow perambulation round the lawn at the back of their house. Sheila and Derek were cooking tonight and had announced that dinner would be ready within the next half-hour. It had taken Maggie and Linda nearly ten minutes to put on their coats and their gloves but then, as Maggie told Linda, it didn’t really matter since Sheila would almost certainly forget to put the greens on until Derek was ready to serve up.
Maggie was in a good mood. ‘I had a call from Tess this evening,’ she said. ‘Robert had found her a holiday job in Gasterlethen and now she’s decided to take it. So she’ll be up here with us through August.’
‘I’m so glad,’ Linda said. ‘I always enjoy her visits. Are there any men on the… the…?’
‘On the horizon? No. There never do seem to be
any men on Tess’s horizon.’
‘Perhaps she doesn’t like men.’
‘I suppose it’s possible. I’m not sure she’s interested in women either.’
Linda stopped to point her walking stick at the rose bushes. ‘They need spraying,’ she said. ‘We must talk…We must talk to the gardener.’
Maggie nodded. ‘I’m sure Gordon mentioned it a few weeks ago. I’ll be sure to remind him.’
They set off again. ‘How is… Tess’s sister?’ Linda asked.
This was what Linda did these days. Names eluded her and she would use deceptively formal language to refer to individuals she had known for years. All through the Surrey decades, she and Maggie had been in and out of each other’s house, sharing children and then grandchildren. Linda had seen almost as much of Tess and Anna as she had of her own grandsons. And now Anna was ‘Tess’s sister’.
‘Anna’s fine,’ Maggie said. ‘She’s a very busy doctor. She was always such a funny little girl. Do you remember a time I brought her and Tess to tea with you? It was the day you and Derek had your old beech tree cut down and you told them it had died. Anna looked at you and me with immense gravity and said, “I expect you’ll die soon.” I said something like I very much hoped we wouldn’t and she looked at us with great sweetness and said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t hurt.” She was only four and she said that! Do you remember her saying that?’
‘No,’ Linda said. ‘I don’t remember. Is Felix coming here soon? I am so fond of Felix. I haven’t seen him for a very long time.’
Felix and Freya had been there with Tess only two months ago for Easter. Maggie said, ‘He and Freya are coming in October. It’s a long drive for them and Felix works
so hard.’
Linda nodded. ‘This morning,’ she said, ‘I sat up in bed and I thought: I don’t know how to switch on my bedside lamp. Derek was awake and I told him. I said, “I feel as if all the lights in my head are slowly going out.” And do you know what he said?’
‘No.’ Maggie reached out for her friend’s hand. ‘Tell me.’
‘He said I shouldn’t worry. He said he’d be my torch.’ Linda smiled and for a moment the old Linda was there, with the usual spark of mischief in her eyes. ‘I told him,’ she said, ‘he’d need to stock up on batteries.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
Anna met William Niarchos when they were both at medical school. At the time she was seeing a charming but complicated boy who shared a flat with William. Her friendship with William had lasted far longer than the relationship with his flatmate. She and William both loved the cinema and he was a non-judgemental and easy-going companion; they were impressive characteristics given the peculiarities of his upbringing. His brother was called Trevor and, as he pointed out to Anna, one only had to consider their names to indicate that there was something dysfunctional about the family. Their father was proudly Greek, their mother was stubbornly English and their favourite pastime was to argue ferociously as to whether England or Greece deserved to be known as the cradle of democracy.
The brothers had grown up witnessing dramatic conflagrations on a regular basis. William had once acted out to Anna one particular family breakfast. He and his brother were eating cereal with their mother when his father burst into the kitchen and emptied the contents of a plastic bag over his wife. It transpired he had cut into pieces the dress she had worn to a party the night before at which, so their father told them, their mother had done her best to seduce the host.
