by Jules Wake
‘Claire Harrison?’
At the man’s suspicious, angry tone, Bill stepped in front of me, his tufty fur brushing against my hand. I patted his head in quick reassurance as my heart clenched.
‘Alice?’
I still hadn’t heard from her. I’d tried calling and texting her mobile to no avail all day yesterday and most of this morning. It rang and rang but she didn’t answer which puzzled me because if she was on a flight, it would have been switched off… which meant she wasn’t in transit yet. So where was she and why wasn’t she picking up?
‘You’re Alice? I want to speak to Claire Harrison. Is she here?’
‘No. Yes. I am.’
‘What?’
‘I’m Claire Harrison. I thought you were… never mind.’ I thought he’d been here to deliver bad news.
Bill relaxed against my legs but stayed put. Feeling my heartbeat returning to normal, I peered into small, sharp eyes set in an angry pink face.
‘Can I help you?’ I asked.
‘I expect you know why I’m here.’ The voice was querulous but the words were clearly enunciated with a definite public-school clip; his pompous assumption amused rather than intimidated me. As a lifelong fan of Pride and Prejudice, he immediately put me in mind of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. It prompted mischief – a hangover from wanting to be Elizabeth Bennet and spending too much time with Hilda who had been so infuriated by the police visit that she’d availed herself of the spare room for a second night just to spite the manager of the home.
‘I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage.’ I stood squarely in the doorway, seeing that he expected to be invited in. Bill sat down next to me but his ears were up and alert, his nose quivering.
‘I am Farquhar Fitzroy.’
‘Oh,’ I said, an air of curious amusement in my voice. Hilda’s son? That was unexpected.
‘You know why I am here. I am fully conversant with your ploys.’ Oh yes, definitely Lady Catherine.
‘Well, that’s excellent.’ I paused, holding on to the door, before giving him an unconcerned smile. ‘And what would those be?’
‘I know what you’re up to.’
‘You do?’ Elizabeth, eat your heart out.
‘Miss Harrison. Can we be frank?’ I almost laughed out loud.
‘Please, be my guest, because I haven’t the foggiest idea why you’re here or what you want.’
‘I’m concerned about the amount of nights my mother is spending under your roof. It really isn’t on. And this sudden request for money to be released from her investments…?’
The first part of his speech elicited some sympathy but the final sentence had my hackles rising like a German Shepherd faced with a burglar.
Before I had chance to respond to the insult, Hilda’s ringing voice came from the other end of the hall. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Farky. What are you doing here?’ A wealth of exasperation and weariness filled Hilda’s words. ‘And it’s a paltry three thousand pounds.’
‘Don’t call me that ridiculous name, Mother,’ he snapped. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I’m sorry, Claire,’ she said with a huff of irritation. ‘You’re going to have to invite him in. He won’t go away. He’s a pest.’
‘I’m not… I’m…’ For a moment he floundered, his colour rising, before he gritted his teeth. It was like watching an angry cartoon character regaining control. ‘I need to talk to Miss Harrison.’ I almost, I say almost, felt sorry for him.
‘Oh Farky. I don’t know why you’re doing this but you’re making a complete fool of yourself. Claire is my friend; I’m in no danger from her.’
‘I think I’m better placed to judge that, Mother.’
‘You think a lot of strange things, dear.’
Shaking her head, she wandered back through the house towards the kitchen as I stared after her. ‘Would you like to come in?’
‘What I’d like is to talk to you in private. However, my mother is determined to show us all up, so, by all means, proceed.’
I led him to the kitchen where Hilda had resumed her seat, picked up her coffee, and was holding up several paint charts. She had arrived with them, Ash in tow, just after I’d picked the girls up from school, ostensibly to have a parkrun meeting. Her words.
‘Mother, are you drinking coffee?’
Hilda peered into her cup, a china one she’d insisted I buy and which she then commandeered for her personal use. ‘Gosh, so I am. Cappuccino. Jolly nice it is too.’
‘What has the doctor said about drinking coffee?’
‘Make up your mind, dear. I’m either senile and unable to manage on my own, and therefore how can I possibly be expected to remember anything, or else I’m a grown woman in charge of my own affairs who is perfectly capable of making judgements as to whether the pleasure of drinking coffee outweighs my possible earlier demise.’
I hadn’t imagined Farquhar could turn any redder. I was wrong.
It was a second or so before he had collected himself.
‘Mother, you are impossible.’
‘So you’ve told me, umpteen times, which begs the question why do you keep trying to make me less impossible?’
In sheer frustration, her son turned to me. ‘Miss Harrison. I’m concerned about my mother’s wellbeing and I fear she is being taken advantage of.’
‘That’s very commendable but I’m not—’
‘It has come to my attention that you are… you are exerting undue influence over—’
Ash spat his coffee out all over the table and colour charts. Farquhar shot him a quelling look.
‘My mother is vulnerable and you seem to have befriended her. It seems rather odd. A young woman befriending an elderly woman. And now this request for money.’
‘Actually, Hilda befriended me. And she’s become a very good friend indeed. Don’t judge people by your own standards. Your mother is of sound mind and in extremely good health,’ I thought of her jogging round the park every day and crossed my fingers under the table; I hoped she was. ‘She is hardly the sort of person to be unduly influenced, as you put it.’
‘Well said, Claire.’ She leaned forward. ‘Now, Farquhar, I moved into the residence to make you happy. If I choose to spend time elsewhere, that is none of your business.’
‘I think it should be my business when I don’t know where you are or who you’re with. You’re a very wealthy, elderly woman and vulnerable to being targeted by less scrupulous people.’
‘If you’re worried about your inheritance, I really wouldn’t. I plan to burn my way through it.’
‘No, Mother, I’m worried that you might be associating with people who don’t necessarily have your best interests at heart. People who might want to take advantage.’
‘Oh, you’re not still going on about George, are you? I gave him permission to sell that ring. It was hideous.’ Hilda tossed her head but I didn’t miss the deepening of the lines around her mouth. ‘I didn’t want it anyway and would never have missed it.’
Farquhar didn’t say anything but his pinky finger tapped on the table.
‘Is that the only reason you’re here?’ she asked, her colour heightened. ‘To check up on me?’
‘No, Mother. I was concerned about you.’
‘Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine, which you can tell your little spy at the home. Now, I suggest you trot back to your chambers and do whatever you do and leave me in peace.’
‘Mother, you’re impossible.’ His poor face flushed even redder.
‘Do you know Audrey Hepburn said it was actually “I’m possible”, which I prefer.’ Hilda lifted her chin with imperious disregard but I could see her hands shaking. ‘Farquhar, seriously. Enough. I am not in any danger and I’ve had quite enough of this conversation. I’d like you to leave.’ Her final words were suspiciously strained.
‘You’re upsetting your mother. I think it’s time you left,’ said Ash, rising to his feet and taking a calm, authoritative step towards Fa
rquhar. They made an odd juxtaposition – Ash, lean and supple against Farquhar, pudgy and squat. It made me realise just how much better Ash seemed to be already compared to when we had first met again that morning in the park. The lethargy and defeatism had gone. He wasn’t quite back to arrogant, self-possessed Ashwin Laghari standards but I rather liked this new version of him.
Farquhar held up his hands in surrender. ‘I’m not here to cause trouble, Mother. I’m only trying to help. You know where I am if you need anything.’ He tucked his mobile phone into his pocket and strode out of the kitchen to let himself out.
‘You’re terrible, Hilda,’ I said as I heard the front door click shut.
‘I know,’ she replied primly. ‘Right, back to paint colours.’
‘Not quite so fast,’ I said, recognising her diversion tactic. ‘Do you want to explain what Farquhar was talking about? Why does he think you’re staying here? And what’s this about the money?’ Three thousand pounds sounded like a suspiciously familiar number.
‘Ah, that. I was hoping he hadn’t blown my cover. I’ve been staying at my house for the odd night.’
‘Your house?’ Ash and I both said in surprised unison.
‘Yes, dears. It’s just around the corner. I go there occasionally to watch Countdown in peace.’
With this surprising bombshell, we retreated back to the kitchen, Bill returning to the front room where no doubt he’d snuggle up on the sofa next to Poppy, who was definitely his favourite.
‘This colour, I think you’re right,’ said Hilda, holding up the Farrow and Ball paint chart and pointing to the sage-green colour I’d kept coming back to. ‘Mizzle, although I think I would buy Elephant’s Breath just because of the name.’
‘I think we all would,’ I said, before adding sternly, ‘so what’s this about you staying at your house and why didn’t you tell us? And I hope you’re not thinking of stumping up for the parkrun.’
‘Consider it a loan, if that makes you feel better. Or a community donation.’
‘We can raise that money; I know we can.’
‘And it will take time and hold things up.’ Hilda lifted an imperious chin. She was rocking the Queen that day. ‘If you get the grants and monies you can pay me back, but in the meantime this will help.’
‘It’s very generous of you,’ said Ash.
‘Pish. It’s not as if I can’t afford it. I’d far rather it went to a good cause than in death duties. And I’d like to see the parkrun set up before I die.’ Her attempt to look sombre failed miserably.
Ash’s mouth twitched and his eyebrow rose to its highest point while I pursed my lips.
She grinned with an irrepressible twinkle. ‘Well, it was worth a try.’
‘Let’s see how we get on with the grants and see if we can raise local sponsorship.’
‘Yes, dear, but the money’s there if you need it.’
‘Thank you, Hilda.’ Ash laid a dark hand on her white, blue-veined one and the sight of their hands together made my heart hitch with a little pang.
‘Thank you, Hilda.’ I added my hand to the pile and it felt as if we were making a pact.
‘My pleasure, dears.’
‘Now, what’s this about you staying at your house?’ Ash cocked his head as he asked the question, withdrawing his hand to pick up his tea.
For once, Hilda, a little shamefaced, ducked her head before, with a heavy sigh, she lifted it again and said to both of us, ‘I miss it… I just wanted to see what it would be like to stay there and I knew Farquhar would play merry hell and say it’s far too big for me and what happens if I fall. I just pop in every now and then make sure everything is okay. He’s desperate for me to sell the place but I… I can’t bring myself to.’ For the first time since I’d met her, Hilda seemed to have shrunk a little into herself. ‘I know I can’t live there anymore but I do miss it.’
‘How long did you live there?’ I squeezed her hand in encouragement.
‘Over forty years. Saw me through a couple of husbands. Farky used to love going to the park. In those days, bands played every weekend in the bandstand.’ Her eyes dimmed as though she were lost in the past. ‘He was quite a cute little boy, then,’ she added with a wistful smile.
Would I miss this house? I looked around the kitchen, remembering the girls helping me make cheese on toast for tea earlier, having pizza with Ash and Hilda last weekend, trying out the new Nespresso machine with Hilda the day I bought it. This room was starting to hold memories; the house starting to work its way into being mine. I had a growing collection of scenes. A house was to be lived in. Shared with other people. Hilda’s house must hold a palimpsest of memories built up over the years.
‘I’d love you to show me it one day,’ I said impulsively.
Hilda’s smile was slow but gradually lit up her face. ‘That would be my absolute pleasure. Now, what time is this council meeting tomorrow? You’ll have to pick me up, Ash, so that I can babysit for the girls and you might as well bring Bill because young Poppy adores him.’
Poppy and Ava were currently in the front room watching television and I was trying to quash the vague feelings of bad-parenting guilt as I wasn’t sure what they were watching.
Hilda gave me a shrewd look. ‘No word from Alice, yet?’
‘No,’ I eyed my phone. Still no answer to my calls or the messages I’d left. Worry crawled down my spine like spiders skittering across the floor. ‘But she’s…’ I glanced around, making sure the children hadn’t reappeared. ‘She’s quite unreliable. Knowing Alice, she’ll phone when she’s landed and expect me to go and pick her up.’ Under the table I crossed my fingers. But why, when I called, was her phone still ringing with an overseas dial tone?
‘Anyone want another glass of wine?’
‘I ought to get Cinderella here back to Drearyside before the manager sends out search parties and I’ve got…’ Ash looked at me. ‘Things to do.’
‘And I ought to get the munchkins ready for bed and prepare for school in the morning. I need to make packed lunches.’ And there was also reading and spelling to do with Ava, and Poppy had homework on electric circuits which we’d abandoned yesterday because I couldn’t get my head around it.
‘Actually, Ash, I don’t suppose… Poppy’s struggling with some science homework.’
Ash’s eyes rose with surprise and I realised that it was the first time I’d voluntarily asked for help; normally Hilda ploughed in on my behalf.
‘Sorry, you said you had things to do.’
‘They can wait,’ he replied with a shrug, but somehow, despite the laconic body language, I got the impression he was quite pleased to have been asked.
‘And I can make the packed lunches.’ Hilda had already jumped to her feet. It was as if neither of them particularly wanted to go home.
‘Another cup of tea then?’ I asked.
‘I think it’s wine o’clock,’ said Hilda. ‘I’d probably better not have any more coffee.’
Half an hour later, Ash and Poppy’s heads were bent together over a homework sheet. Hilda was cooking pasta carbonara for dinner and Ava was sitting on my knee, dutifully ploughing through her reading book with painstaking but determined slowness.
It wasn’t the evening I’d planned and it was all the nicer for it. The girls approved the new paint colour with much enthusiasm and the sight of them pouring over the paint charts, Poppy’s science homework complete, Ava’s reading book finished, and Hilda and Ash drinking wine, was another scene to add to my memory bank.
Chapter Twenty-One
I dragged myself out of bed extra early the following morning. Ava was fast asleep, rosy-cheeked, with her curls matted around her head like a messy halo. Next door, Poppy, one arm curled neatly under her head, slept like a Madonna. I tiptoed away and down the stairs and blearily made myself a coffee before starting on my calls.
Unsurprisingly, Alice did not pick up and the dial tone was still international.
‘Alice, just wondering whether
I need to get the police involved.’ I hung up. Passive aggressive, I know, but I’d left so many messages now.
To my surprise, when I called my mother, she answered.
‘Mum! It’s Claire.’
‘Hello, dear. Gosh, how lovely. I was going to call you later. It’s so difficult trying to work out the times and whether you’re at work or not. We’re in Cozumel, Mexico. Just docked. It’s absolutely gorgeous. Glorious sunshine.’
‘That sounds wonderful. Although,’ I looked out the window at the pink and gold tinged wispy clouds against the backdrop of a bright blue sky. ‘It’s going to be a lovely day here too.’ One of those days when you wanted to get your run in early before it got too warm.
‘And how are you, dear? Are you enjoying having the girls to stay? I forgot to ask, have you taken holiday or something? They’re such a pair of sweethearts. I do love having them to stay when they come for the weekend.’
‘Actually, that’s why I’m calling, Mum. They’re still here. Alice hasn’t come back yet and she’s not answering her phone. I’m getting a bit worried about her. I wondered if you’d heard from her.’
‘Well, she’s not due back… Oh, I’m getting my dates muddled. She was going for two weeks. Maybe her flight’s been delayed.’
‘And she’s a liar—’
‘Now, don’t be mean, Claire. You have to accept that your personalities are very different. Alice isn’t as strong as you. She needs a lot more support.’
I almost groaned aloud. I’d been hearing this for as long as I could remember.
‘Mum, she told me she was going for a week. That’s what she told the girls as well. I’m not being mean, I’m calling it out. She lied. It’s not acceptable.’ I let my annoyance show because, bloody hell, what was Alice playing at? ‘She might think it’s funny and clever to get one over on me – I’m a big girl and used to her infantile tricks – but it’s not fair on Poppy and Ava.’ I knew Mum would be far more sympathetic to the plight of the girls.
There was small pause. ‘No, that’s true. It’s very naughty of Alice.’
‘Naughty! Mum, she’s not five. She’s bloody irresponsible. I have absolutely no idea when she’s coming back. She said Sunday. It’s Tuesday. Have you heard from her at all?’
