The brothers looked at each other. Colin put down his knife carefully and Ray wiped his hands on his apron. They both came around to Alexander’s side of the counter and stood one either side of him.
‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way.’
They each put a hand on his elbows. He was going to be pushed out of the door any minute. There was no point in even—
‘Wait.’
The three of them turned to see Sally in the door of the flat.
‘It’s OK. I’ll talk to him.’
She nodded her head towards the door. ‘Come on,’ she said to Alexander. Her arms were folded and she didn’t have her usual sunny smile. She led him around to the alley that ran alongside the butcher’s shop.
‘I can’t stay any longer,’ she said. ‘I can’t cope with it. It’s all too much.’
Alexander was aware of people watching him, but he didn’t care. This was the most important speech of his life and he couldn’t mess it up.
‘Sally. We need you. You have to come back. I know Mum went a bit crazy but she didn’t mean it. Not really. She needs help. She’s gone off the rails. And I know we can’t sort things out without you. We’ve always been a bit useless, all of us. But ever since you arrived, our lives have been so much better. You’ve made us better people. We all love you. I know we do. Even Mum, really. She just doesn’t know how to show it. She’s always been like that. We all love you and we all need you, Sally.’
He stopped for a moment to see her reaction. She chewed on her thumbnail.
‘Sally?’
She nodded. Alexander leapt forward and hugged her.
‘You won’t regret it, Sal. I promise.’
Sally and Alexander got back to the house just as dusk was starting to fall.
‘I’m sure Mum will apologise,’ said Alexander. ‘She’s one of those people that forgets arguments in about five minutes, and she doesn’t have a clue that what she’s said might hurt someone.’
‘She doesn’t have to do that,’ said Sally. ‘That would be too embarrassing for words.’
But as they went into the kitchen, they could sense that something was terribly wrong. Dai was at the table, his head in his hands. He looked up.
‘Your mother’s gone,’ he said. ‘She says she’s never coming back.’
36
1967
They waited all night at Hunter’s Moon for Margot to come back, but there was no sign of her in the morning.
‘It’s not like her,’ said Phoebe, who had turned up late in the evening. ‘She usually calms down pretty quickly.’
She and Sally and Alexander were drinking tea in the kitchen. Dai came in, holding several bottles of pills.
‘I found these hidden in the bedside cabinet,’ he said. ‘I knew she popped the odd pill to make her sleep, but this many?’
There were several different kinds, but no one knew quite what they were for.
‘Well, at least if they were in the drawer, she can’t take them,’ said Alexander.
‘It does explain a lot, though,’ said Phoebe. ‘She has been pretty unbalanced. If she’s been mixing these up, and drinking.’
‘It’s the worry about the house,’ said Dai. He looked distressed, and showed them the letter from the bank.
‘There’s lots of those,’ said Sally. ‘I kept telling her to open them.’
‘Will we lose Hunter’s Moon?’ asked Phoebe.
‘We need to find her,’ said Dai. ‘But where do we start? She could be anywhere. Who knows how her mind works?’
‘Let’s go and have a look in her study,’ said Sally to Alexander. ‘We might find something in there.’
Sally and Alexander searched through the piles of letters on Margot’s desk, and dug through the drawers. Dozens of bills and red letters spilled out. Alexander looked more and more worried as the full picture came to light.
‘Look at this,’ Sally held out a handwritten letter.
‘Following on from our meeting at the party,’ read Alexander. He frowned and scanned the rest of it. ‘I would like to take you out for lunch – who the hell’s Terence Miller?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Sally. ‘But I think we should go and see him.’
‘We can’t tell dad. He’d be terribly upset.’
‘Let’s tell him we’re going to see Niggle. Or her publisher.’
Alexander folded the letter up and put it in his pocket. ‘Will you come with me? Phoebe and Dad can wait here in case she turns up.’
‘Of course.’
‘Thank God Mum took the Mini. We can take the Jag.’
Bloomsbury was quiet and dignified in the autumn sunshine as Alexander drove up and down, looking for a parking space.
‘There’s one,’ said Sally. ‘And there’s number eleven.’
They parked and walked along to Terence Miller’s house. They stood on the doorstep. Sally rang the bell, squeezing Alexander’s arm for reassurance, and they waited, not sure what to expect.
A tall man in glasses answered.
‘Mr Miller?’ asked Sally.
‘Yes.’ He looked between the two of them, frowning.
‘We’re looking for Margot Willoughby.’
‘My mother,’ added Alexander. ‘She’s disappeared from home and we’re very worried about her.’
His frown deepened. ‘Well, she’s not here . . .’
‘We found this, in her study.’ Alexander held out the letter. ‘It’s from you.’
Terence scanned the lines. ‘Yes.’
Alexander was frowning. Who was this man and what did he mean to his mother?
‘Were you having an affair?’
Terence raised his eyebrows.
‘No. I’ve got a perfectly lovely wife who I feel no need to be unfaithful to.’
‘I think Alexander’s a bit upset.’ Sally felt the need to apologise. ‘We just hoped you might have some idea where she was?’
‘I’m afraid not. The last time I saw her was at her party. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times. We talk about work. That really is all there is to it.’ He paused. He was thinking. ‘Although there is somewhere she might be. I offered her the use of my hut any time she wanted it. At Greystone Beach. You could try there.’
Sally and Alexander looked at each other. ‘It’s worth a try,’ said Sally. ‘Could you give us directions?’
Terence drew them a rough map with a pencil and paper. ‘It will take you about two hours to get there.’
‘Not the way I drive,’ said Alexander, who intended to put his foot down all the way.
*
The shingles were like ice: a freezing cold that worked its way right into her bones, gnawing at them, but she was too tired to care. She wondered about the imprint she would leave if she got up – the smooth dips where her shoulders, her hips, her calves had sunk in, leaving a perfect cast in the grey pebbles.
She had no intention of getting up, though. Her head throbbed from the bottle of wine she had drunk. She had hoped it might stop her thinking. But on the contrary it had made her think more. It seemed it was as impossible to stop thinking as it was to stop breathing.
She lay as still as she could and imagined pulling the sea over her head, like a blanket, shutting her eyes and giving in to sleep – but it wouldn’t be just sleep. It would be something darker and deeper. And it would be forever. What a delicious thought.
How easy would it be? Could she just breathe it in, that soft water that was whispering to her? Could she let it fill her lungs until she breathed no more? Or would it hurt? She didn’t want it to hurt. The whole point was for the pain to stop. She couldn’t understand why she couldn’t make it go away. She couldn’t even describe it, but it held her down, the pain, as if her pockets were full of the stones she lay on. She couldn’t push it away, no matter what she tried.
Everything was in ruins. Her career. Her marriage. Her family. Even her house. Everything she had spent her life fighting for had fallen apart. She couldn’t
do it any longer. There were too many obstacles and not enough hope. It was a relief, to realise she could give up. Sweet relief. And no doubt everyone else would feel the same, once they found out. It was the right thing to do for everyone.
She felt the first waves at her feet, kissing her toes and then running away. The waves would return, braver and braver, inching up her body. Maybe she should get up, she thought, but she didn’t have the will or the strength. She gave a half-smile. As endings went, it was suitably romantic, though if it were one of her books, a shadow would be cast over her any minute, and she would look up in to the smouldering dark eyes of a fisherman who would scoop her up in his arms and carry her off to his cottage where they would fall madly in love and live happily ever after . . .
Maybe her death would herald a rise in sales? Niggle would be happy. Dear old Niggle. He’d done his best but it wasn’t enough, and most of it was nothing to do with him. Not his responsibility. There was only so much you could ask of one person, and she had asked more than she should of him over the years.
She mustn’t think about people. Thinking about people would make this too hard. She must think about nothing. Because that was all she wanted. To think about nothing, feel nothing, be nothing . . .
The waves were lapping her ankles now. How long it would take she had no idea. Besides, she was falling asleep, what with the wine and the pills and the tiredness, the all-consuming tiredness.
With luck, it would all be over by dusk.
She could hear nothing but the pounding of the waves. But then there was another sound. Footsteps on shingle, crunching towards her. It must be her fantasy fisherman.
But then she heard a cry, and her mother’s instinct kicked in. Who was it? Phoebe? Annie? Alexander? But there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t sit up. She was so cold. She was so very cold.
She looked up. She could see faces looming over her.
‘Beetle?’
She managed a smile. And then she closed her eyes.
37
1967
Margot could sense somebody in the room. She didn’t want to wake up. She was so deliciously cosy and warm. She had never thought she would be warm again. Whoever it was, was sitting on the edge of her bed. She stirred and turned over. Then opened her eyes. The light was bright. It must be daytime. She had no idea of the time, or how long she had slept.
It was Sally. She was holding out a cup, smiling.
‘Beef tea.’
‘Oh,’ said Margot. She didn’t have the energy to sit up. ‘Thank you.’
She reached out a hand and touched Sally’s arm. ‘Put it on the bedside table.’
‘I’m not going until you drink it.’
She knew that tone of voice. It was the voice Sally used when she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.
‘Let me put some pillows behind you and you can sit up.’
How could she be so weak? It was such a struggle. But eventually she managed it, and when she’d had a few sips of the tea – it was delicious – she felt stronger. Her head was starting to clear.
She was surprised to find that she could think straight. Although she had lots of questions.
‘Where is everyone?’
‘They’re all waiting to come and see you. When you’re ready.’
‘Oh, yes please.’ She wanted to see them, all of them. ‘Do I look a fright?’
‘You look very pale. Do you want lipstick?’
‘Oh, I don’t know that it matters. Does it?’
‘Not at all.’
‘I feel as if I’ve been asleep for weeks.’
‘Three days, off and on. You were very lucky not to get pneumonia. We had to take you straight to hospital.’
Sally looked out of the window. It was there, in the hospital corridor, while they were waiting for the doctor to see Margot, that Alexander had taken her in his arms, had told her—
‘I can’t remember anything,’ Margot said.
‘You don’t need to at the moment. You just need to rest.’
Margot looked around the room. ‘Where’s Dai? I need Dai.’
Suddenly, she did. She needed his big, bear presence and his comforting arms.
‘I’ll send him in,’ said Sally.
Margot couldn’t believe that Dai wanted to see her. She had a dim memory of saying terrible things to him. But all he wanted to do was hold her.
‘Don’t ever run away again, you.’ He held her tight and kissed her head. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Margot? I know you think I’m useless but I could have helped.’
‘It was all too awful. And it was all my fault.’
‘No. It was everyone’s. We weren’t pulling together. We were all in our own worlds.’
‘The house,’ said Margot. Memories were coming back to her gradually. She sat up in panic. ‘What about the house?’
‘Hey. Calm down, cariad.’ His voice was soothing. ‘I’ve sorted it all. Niggle came down yesterday and we had a meeting with the bank.’
‘You did that?’
‘I can wheel and deal when I want to.’ Dai grinned. ‘The agency have given the bank some money, offset against your future earnings.’
‘Oh.’ Margot’s face clouded. ‘But I can’t write. I can’t write any more.’
‘Of course you can,’ said Dai. ‘Niggle’s going to come and talk to you about it, when you’re better. But really, you just need structure and discipline and a routine and not to start guzzling wine at ridiculous hours.’
Margot looked at him, horrified. ‘Are you going to be my jailer?’
‘If you can’t do it by yourself. Yes.’
Margot was quiet for a moment.
‘I love you, you know,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure I’ve been a terribly good wife.’
‘Margot,’ he said. ‘I love you because you’re crazy and mad. I’d be bored witless if you were dutiful and docile.’ He smiled proudly. ‘I’ve gone and got myself a job.’
Margot couldn’t have been more shocked. ‘An actual job?’
‘I’m helping out in the gardens up at Peasebrook Manor. It’s not a lot of money, of course. But I thought I should put something in the pot.’ He wiggled his fingers at her. ‘It turns out I’ve got quite green fingers.’
Margot wound her fingers through his.
‘I know I’m much to blame for all of this,’ said Dai gruffly. ‘I’ve been a difficult sod. Too proud and too up my own arse.’
‘Christ,’ said Margot, ‘I think I get the prize for difficult. If we’re going to have a competition.’ She squeezed his fingers. ‘Where’ve you been sleeping?’
‘In one of the spare rooms.’
‘Come back, would you? I like feeling you next to me in bed. It makes me feel safe.’
Dai was too choked to say that yes, of course he would come back.
Little Annie was next. She held on to her mother and wouldn’t let go.
‘Beetle said you would have drowned,’ she told her. ‘He said the tide was coming in so fast, you wouldn’t have had a hope.’
Margot’s memory was hazy. She had a dim idea that Greystone Beach came into the picture, but that was about it. ‘Let’s not think about it. Tell me something nice.’
Annie thought about it. ‘I don’t suppose you’re interested in parsnips, much?’
‘If they are parsnips you’ve grown, darling, then yes, I am.’
‘You can remember I’m doing A levels, can’t you? English, French and History. We’re doing Jude the Obscure and it’s just so sad. I could come and read it to you if you like. Anyone who reads Jude the Obscure will always feel better about life. It will cheer you up no end, because you’ll know how lucky you are.’
‘That would be lovely.’
Annie looked at her mother. She stood up and went to the dressing table. She came back with a lipstick.
‘You really had better put this on, Mummy, or you’ll frighten everyone.’
Phoebe was fizzing and bubbling with excitement.
‘They want to put some of my clothes in a fashion show. In Chelsea. It’s in a month’s time. Please say you’ll be better for it.’
‘If I have to be wheeled in, I’ll be there.’
‘I’m nervous, though, Mum. If I bring all the things I’ve made up here, will you tell me what you think? Tell me if you think my clothes are awful.’
‘They won’t be. We’ll have a dry run. Here. A fashion show at Hunter’s Moon.’
Alexander was last.
‘My lovely boy.’ Margot’s eyes were fluttering with tiredness by now. Her lids felt as heavy as lead, but she wanted to hold his hand and listen to him.
‘Mum. There’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s about Sally.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘Are you listening? Because we need her here, and there’s one way I can think of to keep her.’
Margot nodded. Her eyes were shut.
‘If it wasn’t for Sally, you wouldn’t be here. And she’s organised everything. She got Niggle to come down and talk to dad. She sent them to the bank. And she’s been to the grammar school in Oxford and got Annie a place. She’s refused to go back to Larkford . . .’
Alexander could see that his words were falling on deaf ears. His mother was fast asleep. He smiled. He could wait to tell her his plan.
The last part of his plan. The first part wasn’t so interesting, though he was rather proud of himself. He’d signed up to do a business course at night school in Oxford. He’d been bumbling around, trying to pull off all these deals, but, to be honest, he hadn’t a clue what he was doing. He needed to understand how money worked. And be a bit more businesslike. Know about profit and loss and tax and interest rates.
The truth was everyone at Hunter’s Moon needed shaking up a bit. And it was Sally who’d made them realise that if they didn’t sharpen up they could lose everything. That you couldn’t just ignore your responsibilities and please yourself and open another bottle when the going got tough.
It was all going to be all right, though. He pulled the covers up and tucked his mother in and kissed her on the forehead.
The Forever House: A feel-good summer page-turner Page 28
