by Debby Holt
‘I do. But it’s so odd. We know nothing about each other.’
‘Ask me anything you like,’ Neil said. ‘I lay my life before you.’
She gazed at the river. Two ducks bobbed primly along the surface, occasionally dipping their beaks in the water. She said, ‘Tell me the worst moment of your life.’
‘Oh Lord,’ he said, ‘I’ve had a fair share of those. The very worst would be a long time ago. I was fifteen. You know what it’s like when you’re that age. The whole world revolves around you. My mother had been ill for months and that made me cross. She’d always wanted more children and it just never happened so she spoilt me rotten. And then she got ill and was too tired to humour me and I didn’t understand. And then she died.’
‘Oh Neil!’ Her eyes pricked with tears. So many things made her cry at the moment.
‘Are your parents still alive?’
‘My father died two years ago. I adored him. He was a professor of English Literature at Oxford and the cleverest man I’ve ever known. Most people were terrified of him. I sometimes think I’m the only person who wasn’t terrified of him. He always made me feel important. I miss him very much.’
‘And what about your mother?’
‘I have no idea whether she’s alive or dead. I’m an only child like you. My mother left Daddy and me when I was seven. I can hardly remember her. She had blonde hair. I remember her scent: she smelt of rose petals.’
‘So it was just you and your father?’
‘He married again six years later. She was lovely. She’s still alive but she’s away with the fairies now.’ Her eyes drifted back to the river. She must go down to Darrowbridge soon and see Ivy. She shivered. She didn’t want to think of Darrowbridge.
Neil reached for her hand. ‘It’s my turn to ask a question. I want you to confess something. Give me a confession, the juicier the better.’
‘I don’t know you well enough for that,’ she said. ‘I can give you one but you’ll think it silly. When you met me at the station, I didn’t think you’d be there. You took me out to dinner. And I drank too much. I have to confess that that was deliberate. I was nervous as hell. I could barely remember the last time I slept with a man who wasn’t my husband.’
‘May I say, Mrs Cameron, that when I finally got you into bed that night, you gave no indication of any nerves whatsoever?’
‘It was all that wine. It made me forget.’ She lowered her voice. ‘And actually, Mr Lockhart, you gave me no time to remember.’
‘You bet I didn’t. I’d been thinking of nothing else for days.’
‘You weren’t apprehensive? You didn’t feel even a little uncomfortable at the restaurant?’
‘Oh God, yes. It was the most uncomfortable evening of my life. I was in an almost permanent state of arousal. Thank heaven for the very large napkin on my lap.’
‘You are quite outrageous,’ she murmured, casting a furtive glance towards the elderly couple two tables away. Either they were deaf or they were very broad-minded. ‘Now you have to confess something. And keep it clean.’
He sat back and folded his arms. ‘This is a big one. When Jamie told me about your website, I was curious. I am genuinely interested in finding out about my ancestors but actually I was more interested in you. Jamie was obviously smitten by your daughter and I thought I’d better find out about her mother.’
‘I’m afraid,’ Freya said, ‘Jamie doesn’t have a chance. Tess is very single-minded about her career. She’s not interested in romantic complications.’
‘You don’t know Jamie,’ Neil said. ‘He’s like my father. When he wants something, he won’t be deflected until he gets it. If he wants her, she won’t stand a chance.’
‘That’s all very well,’ Freya said, ‘but you don’t know Tess. Anyway, I interrupted you. You were looking at my website…’
‘That’s right. I saw your photo and I’m afraid I forgot all about ancestors and Jamie and your daughter. You seemed to smile straight at me and I knew I had to meet you. Hence the invitation.’
It took a moment to grasp what he’d said. ‘You asked me to the party because you fancied me?’ She was genuinely shocked. ‘It was your anniversary party!’
‘I told you it was a big confession. It was bad. I do feel bad.’
‘I should think so. Neil, that is terrible!’
‘I know, I know. Can we please move on before you decide I’m beyond redemption? Ask me another question.’
‘I can’t think of one. I’m too shocked by your confession.’
‘All right. Here’s one for free. Shall I tell you about the best moment of my life?’
She felt she should ask about Eva – at least find out if his marriage was bad enough to justify his invitation to a strange woman. But if she did, he might ask about Felix and she didn’t want to bring him into this setting and this occasion. She had the company of Neil – so much better-looking than her husband – she had the sun on her back and she had the Oxfordshire countryside. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I’d like to hear that.’
‘The memory’s quite clear. I was at a party. A friend was telling me about his plans to build a conservatory. He’s a very dear friend but I’m afraid my attention was wandering. I’ve never quite understood the point of conservatories. As far as I can see, you either want to be outside or in. And then a woman walked into the room. She wore a tight pink dress with the most suggestive zip I have ever seen and I knew straight away that I’d met the woman of my dreams.’
Freya smiled. ‘That’s so romantic. I don’t believe it for a minute.’
‘What about you? What has been the best moment of your life?’
‘Oh,’ Freya said, ‘that’s easy.’ She raised her glass and smiled at him. ‘That’s now.’ When she looked into his rich, dark eyes, she could almost believe it.
Anna had planned to get a taxi from the station but it was such a beautiful morning that she decided to walk. She stopped off at the supermarket to buy rations: eggs, pasta, tomatoes and bread. As she made her way up the lane she tried to work out a plan. She had not rung her father to say she was coming. He had, after all, told her he’d be away. If he was, she supposed she’d have to consider the possibility that he had indeed met some new woman, though she wouldn’t believe it until she’d seen it with her own eyes. If he was at home, she could then, legitimately, confront him. ‘Dad,’ she’d say, ‘I insist that you tell me what is going on.’
She could no more imagine herself insisting than she could him see him responding. He had always been a private man where his emotions were concerned. He was like his mother. Grandpa Philip’s funeral had been a perfect example of their self-control. The family were out in force and everyone was crying. Only her father and Grandma were dry-eyed, their faces still as stone. Afterwards at the wake, the two of them were assiduous hosts, passing round sandwiches, consoling lachrymose relatives, maintaining a constant flow of conversation. And yet, Anna knew, they’d both adored Grandpa Philip.
She turned into the drive and came to an abrupt stop. Her father’s car was there. For the first time, Anna had qualms about her presence here. It was quite possible – it was very likely – that her father had made up an excuse because he wanted to be alone. Worse, he might want to be alone with some woman. Why hadn’t that occurred to her before? He might regard her visit as a colossal invasion of his privacy. She was almost tempted to turn round and go back to the station. On the other hand, she had a right to want to know how he was and why he wanted to split the family. She went up to the front door and her fingers hovered over the bell before pressing it. She heard it ringing inside the house. She waited and then rang again. She opened the letter flap and peered through it into the hall. She could see a vase of dead roses on the table. There were crimson petals on the flagstones. There wasn’t a sound from anywhere.
She took out her key and pushed at the reluctant door. The obstacle proved to be a small collection of bills, circulars and letters. She picked them up and put t
hem on the hall table. The house smelt airless, empty, abandoned. ‘Dad, where the hell are you?’ she murmured.
She froze. She could swear she heard a slight cough from the spare bedroom. She quelled the urge to turn tail and run and tiptoed into the sitting room. Her eyes fell on the poker in the fireplace. She picked it up and went back to the hall. The house was silent again. If there was an intruder up there, he was a very still intruder. She took off her shoes and left them in the hall before creeping upstairs and along the landing to the spare room. The door was ajar. She took a deep breath, tightened her grasp on the poker and sidled into the room.
There was someone in the bed and he must have sensed her presence since he turned to look at her. She would never forget the expression on his face. For just a moment there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Then he saw it was her and the light dulled and he said, ‘Anna? What are you doing here?’
She hardly recognised him. He had a rough growth of beard on his chin, his eyelids were red and puffy and his hair was a mess.
‘I nearly brained you with this,’ she said, waving her poker above her head. ‘It’s just as well you showed your face to me!’ He made no attempt to pretend to be entertained by her feeble attempt at levity. She put the poker on the chest of drawers and went round to his side of the bed. ‘Dad? What’s going on? And why are you in the spare room?’
He hauled himself up by his elbows and sat back against his pillow. His pyjama buttons were in the wrong holes, giving his chest an oddly misshapen appearance. There was a sour smell of alcohol mixed with sweat in the room.
‘I’m a little out of sorts,’ he said. ‘I’m not very well.’ He reached for the glass of water by his bedside table and drank deeply from it. He put it back and stared up at her as if he hardly knew her. ‘I thought I told you not to come this weekend.’
‘I was worried about you. With good reasons as it turns out. Tell Dr Cameron. What are the symptoms?’
‘I…’ He looked out of the window as if trying to remember. ‘I’m not exactly sure.’
She frowned. ‘I’m not surprised you feel ill. There’s no air in here.’ In a few quick movements she opened the curtains and then the windows. ‘It’s a lovely day out there,’ she said.
‘Anna,’ he protested, ‘this is very kind but…’
‘…You wish I was back in London? I’m sorry, Dad, but this isn’t good enough. I tell you what we’re going to do. You are going to have a shower, wash your hair and have a shave. And I am going to make some lunch for us. Is that clear?’
‘I’m really not hungry…’
‘See how you feel after your shower.’ She picked up the poker and then stopped by the door. ‘Promise me you’ll wash your hair.’
‘Nag, nag…’ he murmured. For a moment a smile hovered. ‘I promise,’ he said.
Freya and Neil returned to London in the early hours of Sunday evening and almost immediately wished they hadn’t. As they opened the door of Rory’s flat they were greeted by the stale smells of smoke and alcohol. In their room, the bed was a mess and on the floor around it there were empty beer cans, a black lace bra and one high-heeled black shoe.
‘For God’s sake…’ Neil murmured.
They heard the sound of flushing water from the bathroom and went out to see Rory emerge with a white face and red eyes. He wore pyjama bottoms and a dirty white T-shirt and looked like death would be welcome.
‘Hi there,’ he said weakly. ‘I’ve been trying to clear up but I don’t feel too well.’
‘Rory,’ Neil said, ‘there’ve been people in our bedroom. You could have spared our bedroom.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Rory put a hand to his stomach. ‘I thought I’d do the kitchen first…’
‘Neil,’ Freya said, ‘the poor boy’s ill…’
‘The poor boy,’ Neil said, ‘has had the whole day to sort this out.’
‘I was celebrating,’ Rory said. ‘I have a recall in the morning. It could be a breakthrough.’
‘I very much doubt it,’ Neil said. ‘If you look like you do now, they’ll…’
‘He’ll be fine,’ Freya said. ‘What time is the audition?’
Rory frowned. ‘I think… It’s half past ten.’
‘Good,’ Freya said. ‘Go to bed. I’ll bring you water and you must try to drink it. In the morning I’ll give you a big breakfast. I’ll sort out the flat tomorrow. Do you have clean sheets?’
Rory nodded. ‘In your room. In the cupboard.’
‘Excellent. Off you go now.’
‘Freya,’ Rory said, ‘you are a total angel. Please never leave.’ He turned and walked with great care to his bedroom.
Neil shook his head. ‘I don’t believe this.’
‘At least he’s done the kitchen,’ Freya said.
It was difficult to see what it was that Rory had done. The vinyl floor was sticky and damp. Every available surface was covered with glasses, ashtrays, pieces of baguette, bottles and cans. On the cooker, a big saucepan had the remains of a noxious-looking curry. Another pan had congealed wads of rice.
‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ Freya said. ‘If you change the sheets in our room, I’ll make a start in here. I’ll tackle the rest of the place tomorrow.’
Neil went across to her and took her hands in his. ‘I don’t deserve you,’ he said. ‘And Rory certainly doesn’t.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‘So what exactly is wrong with him?’ Tess sounded bemused.
A woman and her child wanted the lavatory and Anna moved away towards the door of the train. ‘He says it’s flu but it didn’t look like that to me. I think it’s a case of acute depression. I made him promise he’d call the doctor first thing tomorrow’
‘Anyone would think it was Mum who left him,’ Tess said. ‘Did he talk about it?’
‘Only to say it was his decision. He seems exhausted. He got up this morning but had to go back to bed. I took a taxi to the station. Oh and, by the way, I called in on Pam today. I told her what’s happened.’
‘Oh, Anna…’
‘I felt I had to. There’s Dad on his own and he’s in no state to go to work at the moment. Someone needs to keep an eye on him.’
‘That’s all very well but if Dad won’t even talk to us…’
‘I told him Pam would drop by on Wednesday evening and he wasn’t very happy. So I said it was Pam or Grandma, and on balance he preferred Pam. I had to promise we wouldn’t tell Grandma.’
‘I have no intention of telling Grandma. She left a message the other day and I daren’t call her back. It’s all so difficult…’
‘I know. And, by the way, I asked him if he’d like you to come down next weekend and he said he wouldn’t. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to see me. Have you spoken to Mum yet?’
‘I’ve tried. I’m not going to keep hounding her.’
‘All right. Let me know if you do hear from her. How’s your new flatmate?’
‘Oh, fine… In fact…’ Anna could hear a voice in the background. ‘I’d better go. Emily wants us to rearrange the fridge.’ Tess spoke in a voice of faded resignation.
‘Good luck,’ Anna said. She went back to her seat. Poor Tess, she thought. Emily was obviously going to be a disaster. There was one point in her favour. She’d saved Anna from having to relay the lowest point of the weekend. She liked to think she would have told Tess.
It had happened on Saturday night. She’d made a risotto for supper and her father had barely touched it, although he’d assured her it was very good.
‘So good you only managed two mouthfuls.’ She couldn’t bear it any longer. ‘What’s happened to you, Dad? What has Mum done to make you like this? Was she seeing someone else?’
She knew at once she’d gone too far. It was actually quite frightening. He took his plate to the sink and then stood with his back to her. Finally, he turned and stared at her with blazing eyes. ‘Let me tell you something,’ he said. ‘At some stage your mother and I will have a talk. And when we
do, I have no intention of confessing to her that I chose to indulge your taste for gossip and tittle-tattle.’
‘That is totally unfair.’ She tried to keep her voice steady. ‘I’m trying to help you. How can I help if you won’t say what’s wrong?’
‘I don’t know what is wrong. If I find I need help I’ll seek it from a professional therapist not from my very junior doctor daughter. I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t want you to come here. And now I’m going to bed.’
She felt like she’d been attacked by a thunderstorm. She’d been wrong to push him. On balance, she thought as she made her way back to her train seat, she was glad she hadn’t told Tess.
When she got home, Olivia was sitting with her laptop on the sofa. She looked up at Anna and put it to one side. ‘How was your dad? Was it as bad as you thought it would be?’
‘Worse. He didn’t want to talk to me. He didn’t want me there. I shouldn’t have gone down without telling him. He’s always hated surprises. I felt… I felt like an intruder.’
‘Have you had any supper? There’s some ham in the fridge.’
‘I had a sandwich on the train.’
‘I’m sorry you’re having such a rotten time.’ Olivia put her laptop to one side. ‘I’m about to make it worse, I’m afraid.’
‘Why? Has something happened?’
Olivia sighed. ‘I had Jason round last night. You know he works for Corkscrew Productions? They’re planning a short series on holistic gardening and they’ve found a very hot presenter.’
Anna put her hands to her aching head. ‘It’s not who I think it is?’
Olivia nodded. ‘Xander Bullen. Apparently he has a huge, perfect garden and a telegenic family. Jason says he’ll be a star.’
* * *
Rory came back on Monday evening, bearing gifts: flowers, wine and chocolates.
‘Rory!’ Freya said. ‘This is too much!’
‘It’s not enough but I want you to know how much I appreciate you. You gave me a five-star breakfast this morning and I bet it took you all day to clear up the place. I feel abjectly humble.’
