I’ve had two viewings from the estate agents for Greenings since going back to school after the half-term break. One was from a young couple looking for a home in which to start their family. The girl was heavily pregnant and her husband was solicitous, taking her arm on the stairs and frequently asking her if she was all right. They loved the house.
‘We really wanted to have moved well before the baby arrived,’ the girl told me. ‘But we’ve looked at so many houses and none of them has had the right feel. They didn’t feel like home if you know what I mean.’
I knew exactly what she meant. Even in what was then a close-to-derelict state I’d known that Greenings was just what I wanted the moment I walked through the door.
‘How can you bear to sell when you’ve put so much into it?’ the young man asked me. ‘You must have worked so hard.’
‘One of those things,’ I said lightly. ‘My husband and I have split up and moved on. The house is too big for me alone.’
They exchanged pitying looks. ‘I’m so sorry,’ the girl said, touching my arm gently.
Her husband cleared his throat. ‘The price is a bit more than we wanted to pay,’ he said. ‘Would you consider accepting a little less?’
‘I suggest you put in an offer to the agent,’ I said. ‘And we’ll go from there.’
When I showed them out and closed the door behind them I had a huge lump in my throat. The girl had seen all the things I’d seen in the house. The way the light slanted through the landing window, making patterns on the hall floor, the cosiness of the big living-kitchen, and the elegant beauty of the Georgian staircase. I remembered the day we first saw it. I’d had so many plans, so many dreams of us living together in a perfect home we’d created out of chaos.
I told myself not to be sentimental. It was just a building after all; a heap of bricks and mortar. But it had been something wonderful that I’d seen Rex and I creating together and now there was only me. How could it all have gone so wrong? Why couldn’t Rex have seen that to me the house had stood for warmth and security – a real home, wrapping itself around us like a big fleecy blanket. Now it was just a dream from which I’d had a sharp awakening and the thought of starting again on my own somewhere cold and impersonal made my heart sink.
The second couple were older and childless – a smart city couple who, I gathered, would hardly live in the house at all, except at weekends. We stood in the kitchen, my favourite room in the house and the one I liked best to show off. The woman looked around, wrinkling her elegant nose.
‘Of course all of this would have to go,’ she said with a sweep of her arm. ‘I’d have to up-date. I couldn’t possibly live with these oak cupboards and that ghastly dresser. I see it in pale wood and stainless steel – with an island in the centre instead of that table.’ She flung out a hand towards my chintz settee under the window and sniggered. ‘Who ever actually sits in the kitchen?’ she said with a tinkling laugh that sounded like breaking glass. ‘I might even have that window bricked up and have halogen lighting instead.’
‘I doubt if you’d be allowed to do that,’ I said briskly. ‘The house is grade two listed.’
‘Oh, what a bore!’ She looked at her husband who was peering out of the window. ‘What do you think, Damion?’
He pulled a face. ‘Have you seen that garden? I don’t fancy spending all my weekends mowing grass and pulling up weeds.’
She followed his gaze and sighed. ‘God, yes! I see what you mean. But maybe we could have it all block paved,’ she suggested. ‘And chop down some of the trees.’
‘Again, I think you might have a problem there,’ I told her. ‘Most of the trees are quite old and have preservation orders on them.’
She bridled. ‘You mean you’re not allowed to do what you like on your own property?’
‘Not all the time, no. Not with a house of this age.’
Her husband smiled at her. ‘I told you that moving to the country has its downside.’
They left soon after and I knew with relief that I wouldn’t be hearing from them again. Two days later the agent rang me with an offer from the first couple. The phone was ringing as I got in from school. It was a ludicrously low offer and I turned it down at once.
‘They’re very keen,’ the agent told me. ‘They really love the house and they want to move in quickly because of their situation.’ He paused. ‘And they’re renting at the moment so there’s no chain.’
‘I’m still not selling Greenings for that price,’ I told him. ‘We spent a fortune and worked our fingers to the bone renovating.’ I almost added that it had cost us our marriage as well, but reminded myself that the fault for that lay elsewhere.
‘So what would you be prepared to take?’ the agent was saying.
I sighed. If I really had to part with Greenings I’d prefer it to be to the young couple and their coming baby. I knew they would love it as much as I had. The thing was, was I really ready to let it go yet? ‘Leave it with me,’ I said. ‘If they come up with a better offer I’ll consider it, but it will have to be quite a lot better.’
That evening I drove round to John Harrison’s house with the boys’ portraits which I had now mounted and framed. He was some time answering my ring at the bell and when he appeared he was wearing a blue striped apron and looking flustered. He looked relieved to see me.
‘Oh, Sophie, thank goodness it’s only you.’
I laughed. ‘I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or not!’
‘Come in.’ He held the door for me to enter the hallway. ‘To tell you the truth I was trying to make an apple pie,’ he said. ‘But the pastry seems to have a life of its own.’
‘Want me to take a look?’
‘Would you?’
‘’Course.’ I handed him the parcel. ‘Just lead me to the kitchen.’
I could see at once that he’d tried to roll out the pastry while it was too crumbly. I scooped it all back into the bowl, added a few drips of water and kneaded it together. When he saw me roll out a smooth sheet he shook his head.
‘You’re a genius.’
I laughed. ‘Why are you making a pie anyway? The supermarket’s full of them.’
‘I’ve invited a couple of friends over for supper,’ he told me. ‘And I don’t want them thinking I’m totally helpless.’
‘Then lie through your teeth,’ I advised. ‘Always works for me.’
He held up a bottle of sherry. ‘Fancy a glass of this? I think you deserve one.’
‘Just a small one then. I’m driving. But shall we get this pie into the oven first?’
When John produced a tin of apple pulp I opened it without saying anything. Clearly he wasn’t about to overplay the Jamie Oliver impression. Five minutes later the pie was in the oven and we were sipping dry sherry at his kitchen table.
‘I’ve had an idea,’ he said suddenly. ‘Why don’t you join us for supper?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea. For one thing you’re my boss and for another you don’t want to start tongues wagging, do you?’
He pursed his mouth regretfully. ‘Mmm, I suppose you’re right.’
‘On the other hand I’m not leaving until you unwrap that.’ I pointed to the parcel containing the portraits, still lying on the table.
‘Oh my God, I’d forgotten! Is it the portraits?’ He unwrapped the two framed pictures and looked at them for so long that I began to think he was disappointed, but when he looked up at me I saw that there were tears in his eyes.
‘Oh, Sophie, you’ve captured them both perfectly. Thank you so much.’
I heaved a sigh of relief. ‘I’m glad you like them.’
‘I do. They’re wonderful, not only a good likeness but you’ve caught something of their characters too. Although they look alike they’re quite different in temperament and you’ve caught that.’
‘That’s what I was aiming for,’ I told him. ‘I’m happy if you think it came off.’
‘I d
o. Now, you must let me write you a cheque.’
‘No, really, there’s no hurry.’ I stood up. ‘You have supper guests coming and I mustn’t hold you up any longer.’
But he had reached into the pocket of his jacket, hanging on the back of a chair, and was already writing out a cheque. He handed it to me. ‘Here, and don’t argue.’
I gasped when I looked at it. ‘John! This is far too much,’ I protested but he waved my arguments away.
‘You don’t know what it means to me to be able to see those two when I wake up in the mornings. It’ll make up for….’ He swallowed hard and I reached out a hand to him.
‘I know. John, I’m so sorry. Is there no hope of…?’
‘None at all,’ he cut in. ‘Hillary has met someone else. It seems serious.’ He looked up at me, his face earnest. ‘Sophie, don’t let it happen to you. If there’s any chance at all of patching things up with Rex then grasp it with both hands. You’ve no idea how painful it is being made to face the fact that the marriage you’ve invested so much in is over for good.’
‘At least we don’t have children,’ I said.
‘But you’re still young enough to have them. And you do still love him, don’t you?’ When I didn’t reply he went on. ‘Don’t deny it. I can tell you do. Don’t let your pride or mistakes from the past stand in the way. Make a new start, and do it soon.’
I was astonished at his outburst. He was my boss – my headmaster. This was such personal stuff. As though he read my thoughts he shook his shoulders and turned away.
‘Listen to me, talking to you like a Dutch uncle! What the hell do I know? It’s none of my business anyway. But thanks so much for the portraits, Sophie. They mean a lot to me.’
I slipped my coat on and he came to the door with me. ‘Thanks for the cheque, John,’ I said. ‘I still think it’s too much.’
‘It’s not nearly enough,’ he said.
‘Have a nice evening with your friends.’ I sniffed. ‘John! The pie! Better take it out of the oven before it’s burnt to a crisp.’
He rushed off and I walked down the drive towards the car thinking about what he’d said. If the prospective buyers came up with a reasonable offer I’d have to get in touch with Rex somehow soon, maybe it should be sooner rather than later.
Back at home I decided to text him. If he saw that the message was about the house surely he would answer. I sent a simple message: Received offer on the house. Need to speak. S. I waited. Half an hour later the phone in the hall rang.
‘Sophie, it’s me. Your text said you’ve had an offer on the house.’
‘At last!’ I snapped. ‘I thought the prospect of money would get you going!’ The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think, sharp and bitter. But once I’d started I couldn’t stop myself. ‘I’ve tried so many times to ring you but you were too busy sucking up to my folks to be bothered. Did you manage to get any more cash out of them?’
‘Did you ring just to have a go at me, Sophie?’ he said coldly. ‘If so I’m going to hang up.’
‘No, don’t! Yes, I did have an offer,’ I told him. ‘They’re a nice young couple with a baby on the way. They love the house as much as we – as much as I do, but they can’t manage the asking price.’
‘Well, as you’ve decided on that yourself without any in-put from me perhaps you would like to put me in the picture,’ he said pithily.
‘I didn’t decide. It was the agent’s valuation,’ I said. ‘Rex, we really need to talk properly. We can’t agree anything about selling the house over the phone.’
He paused. ‘Do you want me to come to the house?’
‘It would be best.’
‘When?’
‘I’m here now.’
There was another long pause at the other end, then he said, ‘As long as it’s not going to develop into yet another row.’
‘It won’t.’ I bit my lip. ‘I’m sorry about just now.’
‘OK then. In about an hour.’
He arrived before the hour was up. He looked strained and I thought he’d lost weight. He needed a haircut too. When I let him in he was brisk and to the point, refusing my offer of coffee or to come and sit down with me. Standing awkwardly in the hall he said, ‘I can’t stay long. What was this offer then?’
I told him, adding, ‘I’ve turned it down but I’m pretty sure they’ll offer more in a day or two.’
‘So it’s not a firm offer?’
His whole attitude was that I’d wasted his time, which irritated me. ‘It was meant to be. Look, it’s your house too, Rex,’ I pointed out. ‘The original offer was ludicrous but anyway I can’t accept anything without your say-so.’
‘You’ve already turned one offer down without consulting me.’
‘I told you, it was way too low. And anyway you haven’t been exactly easy to get in touch with, have you?’
‘I suppose not,’ he conceded. ‘But now I’d like to put an end to the whole miserable business.’
‘I see.’ His words cut me like a knife. They sounded so final. I felt my eyes fill with tears. ‘Whatever you want,’ I said.
I saw his expression soften. ‘I meant the house sale.’
‘Right, so – what do you suggest?’
He shrugged. ‘Accept something closer to the asking price?’
‘Very helpful.’
‘Well, what do you want me to say?’
‘I expected you to take more of an interest,’ I said. ‘Maybe even try to be helpful. You’ve opted out of it all. I’m the one taking all the responsibility of selling and holding down a job as well.’
‘And still living here in your precious house,’ he countered. He ran his fingers through his hair exasperatedly and looked at me. ‘Sorry.’ He sighed. ‘Did you say something about coffee? Maybe this needs thinking about in more depth.’
I wasn’t sure whether he was talking about the house or us.
In the kitchen I made coffee and we sat at the table, two cups of coffee cooling in front of us. I was aware that we’d both dropped our defences now and were ready to talk realistically. We agreed on an acceptable price for the house price and I felt relieved.
‘If I asked you where you were staying would you tell me?’ I asked him.
‘It’s never been a secret.’
‘Except that I never got the chance to ask.’ I looked at him. ‘Are you staying with my parents?’
He looked startled. ‘Of course not! What gave you that idea?’
‘I rang them once and you answered.’
‘Oh, that. I just happened to be there. I dropped by to see them.’
‘Why?’
‘Why not? They are my in-laws.’ He paused. ‘As a matter of fact your father hasn’t been too well. Your mother had rung to tell me and I thought I’d go and check up on them – see if there was anything they needed.’
I felt a pang of resentment. ‘She didn’t ring me.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you surprised after the things you said the last time you saw them?’
‘What’s the matter, with Dad I mean?’
‘He’s better now. He had a few chest pains and the doctor said it could be angina. He’s on some tablets.’
‘I see. So, if you’re not staying with them….’
‘I’m always on the end of my phone,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ll pick up in future. It was just that I didn’t want any more arguments.’
I swallowed hard. What I was about to say was going to take some courage and loss of pride but I couldn’t let him go without knowing.
‘We can’t go on like this. Where are we going, Rex?’ I asked him. ‘Do you want this to be permanent – a divorce?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure what either of us wants any more.’ He looked at me directly for the first time. ‘There doesn’t seem to be much left for us to agree on, does there? All that’s happened – since we bought the house and after – has made me realize how little we ever really knew each other. Everything abou
t you when we met – the way you dressed, your views and everything we had in common – all that was just an act, wasn’t it, to get back at your folks? I see that now. I never really got to know the real Sophie Bamber until we bought this house and your true colours came out.’
‘You were the same,’ I accused. ‘Trying hard to be something you weren’t at college, escaping from your working class roots, turning yourself into an artist.’
‘I never turned myself into anything,’ he argued. ‘I was always an artist. And I still respect my parents and upbringing. I know they did their best for me and I’ll always be grateful. I’m not the one with a chip on my shoulder. You are! Whether you like it or not, Sophie, you’re your parents’ daughter so why don’t you start living up to it? They’re good, hard working people who made a success of their lives. Their only fault was trying to give you a good life.’
‘Oh, they’ve brain-washed you well, haven’t they?’ I sneered.
He stood up, shaking his head. ‘I can see that you’re never going to change, Sophie. Well, we’ve agreed on the house price so I’ll leave it to you to let me know when it’s sold.’ He turned as I was letting him out of the front door. ‘As for your question about divorce – maybe it’s the only thing we have left to agree on.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FRANCES
True to his word Adam handed me an envelope containing five hundred pounds on my first day at Tropicalle Pools and on the first Monday in November I took it along to Paddington Station and waited for my nemesis in the café. She arrived promptly and seized the brown envelope from me swiftly before anyone could see. She checked it and looked at me with a triumphant smile.
True Colours Page 16
