The door jangled open and a woman and a girl came in standing with their backs to Francesca. The woman was wearing tight white cropped trousers, not a good choice for a big bottomed lady, with Cleopatra-type gold sandals, a disastrous choice for a day like today. Her hair, dark with a reddish tint, was up in a bouncy ponytail. Idly, Francesca watched as the girl, her hair shorter and darker, turned, caught her eye and smiled at her as her mother read the specials board.
Francesca felt her heart tug.
There was something familiar about the girl.
And then, as the woman turned too, Francesca saw why.
It was Izzy and her daughter.
Chapter Eighteen
‘WHAT ARE YOU doing here?’ They spoke simultaneously, laughing and hugging as the girl looked bemusedly on.
‘Your hair’s different,’ Izzy said when they finally surfaced.
Francesca laughed. ‘Well, it is over twenty years since I last saw you.’
‘Never! Is it really?’ She turned to her daughter. ‘Vicky, this is my best friend Francesca. We were at school together.’
Vicky smiled politely, so like her mother at that age that Francesca was quite startled by the resemblance.
Best friend? What a lovely idea and how very true it was. Despite the gap since they had last seen each other, Francesca felt immediately at home and comfortable with Izzy as the realisation hit home that she was just the same person as she had been all those years ago.
‘How have we let all this time go by?’ Izzy said. ‘We kept saying we must meet up and we never did. Is that my fault or yours?’
‘Both of our’s I think. Come and sit down.’
They did so and the girl at the counter cast them a glance but left them to it.
‘Francesca Blackwell …’ Izzy grinned at her. ‘You couldn’t wait to get away, could you? When you went away to university I never thought that would be the last time I would see you.’
‘I would have come back during the holidays,’ Francesca said apologetically. ‘I meant to but Mother moved to Kent and that was that.’
‘Oh yes. I remember the house going up for sale. She never told anybody where she was going. I’m sorry but my mum could never get on with her.’ She smiled a rueful smile. ‘You look different, Francesca, and it’s not just the hair. You’re very smart. Francesca works in advertising in London, Vicky.’
‘Do you?’ Vicky looked at her as if she was from another planet. ‘Do you honestly? That’s wicked. I want to live in London one day. I’m going to work in fashion.’
‘You and a thousand others, Sweetheart.’ Izzy softened the disparaging remark by smiling at her daughter and then looking at Francesca. ‘Thanks for the birthday card by the way although I’m not sure I like to be reminded I’m another year older.’
‘That’s all right.’ Francesca hesitated but Izzy beat her to it.
‘Come on then, where is he hiding? This new husband of yours? I’m dying to meet him.’
Francesca gave an imperceptible shake of her head, glancing at the girl and Izzy, ever quick to sense a hesitation, picked up on it at once.
Time to get rid of Vicky.
‘Look, Darling …’ she rifled in her bag and produced a purse, handing a note to her daughter who had been standing quietly like a gooseberry for the last few minutes shaking her head though in a rather maternal way at their girlish excitement. ‘Here’s a tenner. Why don’t you have a wander round town, get yourself something, whilst I have a chat with Francesca. I won’t be long. You can text me if you need me.’
‘OK.’ Vicky pocketed the money. ‘Thanks, Mum. Meet you back at the car in an hour?’
‘Fine.’
Vicky sauntered off and Izzy watched her go.
‘Isn’t she lovely?’
‘She looks just like you, Izzy.’
‘She’s not as crazy as I was. She’s going to do well in her exams and she’s quite determined to go to Art College. Knowing her, she’ll get there too.’
After a few minutes, they left the café, Izzy doing most of the chatting as usual. She hadn’t changed much apart from putting on weight, but that had always been on the cards with her. In any case although Francesca wouldn’t dream of saying it, it suited her.
‘Now, for heavens sake, out with it, what are you doing here? Is it a trip down memory lane? That’s what we’re up to. This place never changes, does it? I just dragged Vicky down to the canal to see our old house. That was a mistake I can tell you. It made me feel all weepy and I just kept looking at it until Vicky said somebody was watching us through the window and it looked like we were stalking them.’ She smiled a little. ‘I had a happy childhood, Francesca. I have lots of happy memories.’
‘I know. You were so lucky, Izzy. How are your mum and dad these days?’
‘Fine. They retired to Torquay. They have a little flat near the sea and we see a lot of them. It’s good for the kids to see them. Mum spoils them something rotten.’ She regarded Francesca with suspicious eyes. ‘What’s all this about then? Didn’t it work out? Is it over? Have you left him?’
‘He died, Izzy.’
‘Oh my God, he didn’t?’
‘Yes he did. I left him sitting in the chair and when I got back he was dead. No fuss. No nothing. But then he wasn’t the sort to make a fuss, not even of dying.’
Izzy put a hand over her mouth. ‘So soon? I don’t know what to say. You poor love, come here.’
In the middle of the street, oblivious to people passing by, she hugged her as a mother would and the gesture was so Izzy, such a blessed comfort, that it was all Francesca could do to stop herself from crying.
‘I know why you’re here then,’ she said, her voice muffled in Francesca’s blouse. You’ve come back here to get yourself together, haven’t you?’
‘That was the idea I suppose, but the old house was up for sale and I ended up buying it.’ She hesitated feeling an explanation was needed. ‘We were in the process of moving and David left me comfortably off so at least financially I’m OK.’
‘Let me get this straight. You’ve bought Lilac House?’
‘Yes. I live there now. Why don’t you come round to see it? Now if you like.’
‘Could I? I’d love that.’
‘Come on then. I’ll make you that coffee you never got round to having.’
‘Vicky seems a nice girl,’ Francesca said, noticing that Izzy quietened as they neared the house. ‘You’re lucky.’
‘I know I am. I have four girls and they’re all different. I’ve left Alan looking after the others today so goodness knows what will have happened by the time I get back. But that’s dads for you.’ She looked uneasy suddenly, remembering. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard from your dad?’
‘Well …’ she hesitated but within seconds she was blurting it all out, telling Izzy everything, about the way her mother forced him to resign from his job, about the birthday cards he sent that she never received, about the way he had forgiven her mother and even that James was not his child.
‘He had no backbone,’ Izzy said when she was finished. ‘He should have fought his corner and told her where to get off.’
‘He was a gentle man. He let people walk all over him. If only I’d known.’
‘Poor Francesca. It always happens to you, doesn’t it?’
‘At least you got what you wanted. Your big happy family.’
Izzy cast a sharp glance her way and Francesca had to say swiftly that she had not intended it to sound sarcastic. She meant it.
‘I can’t pretend it’s been easy,’ Izzy said. ‘It’s been up and down. Alan runs his own painting and decorating business and I’ve been pregnant most of the time so it’s not been easy for me to keep a full-time job. So, we’ve had a struggle with money but I wouldn’t change it for the world.’
‘Here we are.’ Francesca unlatched the gate. ‘Do you remember it?’
‘I remember it,’ she said softly.
They stood a moment
, memories flooding back for both of them as they looked at the house that was the same yet in subtle ways different.
‘It’s hardly changed,’ Izzy said with a sigh. ‘I don’t know how you can do it, Francesca. Looking at my old house made me feel … well, I don’t know quite how it made me feel but I wouldn’t like to live there again. I just couldn’t. I’ve changed and I couldn’t step back in time like this.’
Francesca quickly denied she was doing that, opening the door and shooing her inside where Izzy at once enthused about the interior, saying it was just like those houses you see in the magazines where there wasn’t a thing out of place whereas, in her house, much as she tried, it always looked as if there’d been a whirlwind rushing through seconds earlier.
Proud and delighted at the compliment, Francesca opened the door to the study where David’s magnificent old desk took centre stage with some of his books on the shelves and one of the more traditional paintings she had kept on the wall. The room was never intended to be a shrine to him but in some ways it had become that even though Francesca did use this room and this desk.
Izzy went over to take a closer look at the painting.
It was by a northern artist, something picked up on his travels, a picture of his beloved Yorkshire dales close to where his and her father’s ashes were now blown to the wind.
‘I like this,’ she said. ‘He had good taste, your husband.’
That did it. Francesca caught her breath, stifling a sob, and Izzy, taking one look at her, put her arms round her, murmuring soothing words as if she was one of the children.
‘It’s all right. I’m fine. Give me a moment,’ Francesca said, shaking her loose, accepting a tissue that Izzy produced from a pocket and stemming the tears. ‘It’s so annoying. It can just come over you at any time.’
‘Don’t worry about it. Is this him?’ Izzy picked up a photograph on top of the desk. ‘He looks …’
‘He was in his sixties, Izzy.’ Francesca said, putting her out of her misery, sensing she was trying to find something nice to say about the man she had never met, a man who didn’t take a particularly good photograph at that. She wanted to explain that actually he was much more handsome than the photograph suggested but what was the point. ‘He was a good man,’ she finished quietly watching as Izzy placed it reverently back in its place. ‘He was difficult and self-opinionated and very awkward at times but …’
‘I know. They’re all like that. Alan tried it on something rotten, but I’ve learnt how to deal with him. It’s all about letting him think he has the upper hand.’
They stood a moment in front of his desk as if paying homage and then Izzy sighed and reached into her bag drawing out a tattered packet of cigarettes. ‘There’s just two left in it,’ she told Francesca. ‘They’ve been there for months. I suppose you could say they’re my comfort blanket. If things get really bad I can still smoke them but I’m not going to. Do you still smoke?’
‘No. But I’ve been tempted over these last few months.’
‘Shall we?’ Izzy dangled the packet in front of her. ‘We could just smoke these two, one each. What do you think?’
Francesca laughed ‘I think you never change, Izzy Burton.’
‘Izzy Harrison,’ she corrected with a smile. ‘Just testing. I knew you’d say no and I’m sorry I ever got you started on them in the first place.’
Over coffee with the cigarettes confined to the bin, face to face at last, they gave each other a potted history of their lives over the past eighteen years, no holds barred.
‘And you never heard from him again?’ Izzy asked when Francesca had finished telling her about Andrew and the time after university when they lived together up in the Scottish borders. ‘You just walked away? You gave up the chance of marrying a doctor? Were you mad?’
‘It was one of those awful moments when it can go either way. I got the job in London without telling him I had even applied for it and when I broke the news he said that he’d get a job there too and we could find a place together, maybe push the boat out and go straightaway for the family home and I went daft at that point. He just didn’t get it. He thought he would persuade me otherwise and that, sooner or later, I would cave in and have the babies he wanted.’
‘Poor man. He must have loved you,’ Izzy said gently. ‘Do you know what happened to him?’
She shrugged. ‘Not a clue. I did think a few years ago that it might be fun to try to find him but then I had second thoughts. He’s bound to be married by now and it wouldn’t be fair on him.’
‘You’ve not forgotten him, have you?’ Izzy pounced on that.
‘Almost.’ She smiled a little.
‘You are a fool, Francesca. If he’d loved you enough then it wouldn’t have mattered but you never gave him that chance, did you? It wouldn’t have mattered to me and Alan. We are so looking forward to the day when there’s just the two of us again.’
‘You can say that,’ she said a little bitterly. ‘You’re happy to be a walking baby-making machine. What would your Alan have said if you’d refused to have a baby?’
‘I’ve just told you. It wouldn’t have mattered. He was never fussed about having kids but I was determined. He wanted to stop at two but then we tried for a boy and then again.’ She laughed. ‘Then we drew the line. Four is enough for anybody.’
‘You always said you’d have four children. Two of each.’
‘Ah yes.’ Izzy smiled. ‘That didn’t quite go according to plan not with four daughters but that doesn’t matter.’
‘Don’t you regret that you never took up that offer of a university place?’ Francesca hesitated. ‘You could have got your degree, had a career and still have had time for your children.’
‘Maybe but you know me, I didn’t want to do it that way round,’ Izzy said with that familiar stubborn tilt of her head. ‘Why do we all have to conform and do what’s expected of us? I’ve been happy helping Alan with the business but I have plans for the future.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Nursing.’ Surprisingly she blushed. ‘It’s something I’ve always wanted to do and I’ll start the course once Mabel goes to school.’
‘You’ll be good at it,’ Francesca said remembering the calm and efficient way she had dealt with James. ‘I hope it works out for you.’
‘It will.’ Izzy said, brimming with confidence. ‘I make sure all my plans come about although obviously there are some things you can’t plan for,’ she added, giving Francesca a rueful smile and no doubt thinking about David.
‘I have no idea what I’m going to do now,’ Francesca said. ‘I feel so lonely, Izzy.’
Izzy reached over, holding her hand a moment. ‘Give yourself time,’ she said. ‘You’ll meet somebody else. You’re much too young to give up on men but don’t rush into anything.’
‘Anyway, what are you doing here apart from taking a trip down memory lane?’ Francesca asked, changing the subject before it became too difficult. ‘Are you still living in Kingsbridge?’
‘Oh yes. We like it there. Alan’s built up a good client base and he gets repeat jobs now but he hates taking time off. We could only afford to take a week’s break and we didn’t want to travel far so we’re staying over in Cornwall at a cottage near Tintagel. Vicky thinks she’s getting too old to come on holiday with us so we’re making the most of it. This will be the last holiday I think that we’re all together.’
A cottage in Tintagel? Ridiculously the coincidence was confirmed and Izzy beamed at her, stopping short of quizzing her about Gareth.
‘Look, why don’t we meet up later in the week? Come on over. I’d like you to meet Alan and he’ll be thrilled to meet you. I’ve told him all about you.’
‘Not everything surely?’
‘You mean the James thing? No. I don’t talk about that. I never told anybody, not even my mum.’ Her expression changed to one of concern. ‘How is he these days?’
‘Not much change. He’s not got a lot worse but they
’re astonished he’s still with us. He got the use of his legs back although he gets tired quickly but he doesn’t need the wheelchair all the time. You know what the prognosis was but he’s got a strong heart and that keeps him going. It was hard for Mother but she would never accept help especially not from me but now that she’s gone, he’s had to go into a home where they can look after him. I know I should visit but I’m scared he won’t know me. I was going to talk to David about it, ask him if he could come to live with us but I don’t know if he would have agreed. There was no other option after Mother died,’ she finished helplessly. ‘Honestly, Izzy, how could I have looked after him, a single working woman? He needs constant care. He’s a big man and I couldn’t do it myself.’
‘Bloody hell, Francesca, of course you couldn’t. Can I say something awful?’
She nodded.
‘I sometimes wonder if it wouldn’t have been better if he hadn’t survived. I brought him back from the dead, didn’t I, but for what? So that he could be like that for the rest of his life.’
Before she left, they agreed to meet up at Tintagel where they would spend some time together even if it was only a lazy day pottering about. Francesca was keen to meet the other children and Alan too.
‘You might regret it. It’ll be chaotic,’ Izzy warned. ‘I know you’re not keen on kids.’
‘No, that’s not true,’ Francesca said wishing people could understand this. ‘I love them, but I just don’t want any of my own.’
‘Right.’ Izzy nodded and gave her a quick kiss. ‘I have to hand it to you, Francesca. I was wrong there. I thought you would change your mind.’
‘You’d better get back to Vicky before she starts worrying where you are.’
‘She’s fine. If my mum taught me anything she taught me to give them a loose rein.’
Waving her off, Francesca had to recognize that, four children on, Izzy was looking rather ordinary. Of course cheap and cheerful holiday clothes, scraped back hair and very little make-up did not help, but she felt sad that the startlingly pretty Izzy of old had all but disappeared. Izzy had never been beautiful but she did have mischievous dark eyes and a knockout smile and had always been able to attract men.
Just Another Day Page 16
