‘Lucky you.’
Against her better judgement, she bristled at that, at what she considered to be a flippant remark.
‘Don’t start behaving like Selina acting as if I’m just playing at it because I don’t know how to spend my money,’ she told him sharply. ‘I know I would have trouble doing this without David’s money, but it’s hardly my fault if he wanted me to have it, is it? And he would be pleased if he knew that I was doing something with it, something to help out talented young artists just like he used to do.’
‘Don’t be so defensive.’ He smiled and took her hand. ‘Look, I told you I didn’t believe that woman. Anyway, I thought you two were friends again?’
‘We are,’ she said, knowing though that, despite the goodbye hug she and Selina had shared, things would never be exactly as they were. ‘Don’t let’s talk about her, not tonight.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. So … you’re thinking of opening a gallery? Have you spotted any premises?’
She nodded. ‘A choice of two. One’s in a prime position but the other is probably better suited to what I have in mind.’
‘We’ll have to take a run to St Ives and we can look at the galleries together to give you some ideas how you might present yours. We might get the chance to talk to some local artists. I’m sure they would be delighted to exhibit.’
‘Thanks. That would be good.’
‘And it goes without saying that if you want any help in the business line, drawing up contracts and so on then you need look no further.’
She nodded. She had something to prove and wanted to do it herself, but it was good to know that an expert was on hand if she needed him.
‘You know, Gareth, I wish I’d kept the paintings now that it’s too late. I never understood David’s taste and it could be I was a bit dismissive. I’d like to try and understand it more. After all, my mother was an artist with a considerable talent, but she doesn’t seem to have passed it on to me.’
‘Yes she has. You are creative, aren’t you?’
‘In a different sense.’
‘Anyway it doesn’t always follow. My mother’s a musician, but I’m tone deaf.’
‘It’s something I can get my teeth into. I could start by selling some of the work of the artists David supported …’ she paused, aware that she might be mentioning him far too much. ‘Anyway, it’s early days, but it’s an idea for me to think about.’
‘And a good one. It’s good to set yourself a target and do something outside your comfort zone.’
The wine waiter arrived, doing his stuff in a very flamboyant way, and, catching her eye Gareth winked. Somehow, the little gesture set the tone of the evening and she determined to relax and let it take its course. She was fed up with analysing every aspect of her life and it was time she acted once again on impulse, doing what felt right. Time also that she did not put David centre stage the whole time for the worst thing she could think of, if positions were reversed was if Gareth kept going on and on about a woman he had once loved. After that initial mention of the woman called Helen he had not spoken of her again.
‘Gareth …’ she reached out to touch his hand. ‘Thank you. This is really very nice.’
She wished she could think of something more profound, but it would have to do and, as their eyes met, she was sure he had got the message.
They had requested a few minutes respite before the dessert menu was brought to them. The meal so far had been wonderful and, although it was cooling down now, it was still most pleasant. As the sun slipped out of sight, the sky was now a fantastic mix of colours. Francesca slipped a feathery light wrap round her shoulders to ward off the chill and they decided that, after dessert, they would take the waiter’s advice and move inside to the lounge to take coffee. Francesca’s mind was made up; she had decided to stay with Gareth tonight and, judging from his cat-that-got-the-cream look, he knew it.
After dessert, as they waited in the lounge for the coffee, it started to go wrong.
It began with a casual mention from Gareth about his brother Simon who lived in the States.
‘I didn’t know you had a brother,’ she said.
‘It never came up. You have a brother too, don’t you?’
‘How do you know that?’ she asked more sharply than she intended.
‘You mentioned him when we had dinner with Pamela and Richard.’
Ah yes.
‘It’s not something I want to talk about,’ she said, sensing a question coming on.
‘I gathered that. Family rift?’ he asked sympathetically. ‘Don’t worry. It happens in all families. In fact it would probably happen in mine if the two of us didn’t live so far apart that we hardly ever see each other.’
‘It’s not a family rift. Not with James. The rift was between me and my mother. She’s dead now so there’s no way it can ever be resolved. She never forgave me. Look ..’ she glanced round. ‘Would you mind, Gareth, if we skip the coffee? I need to talk and we can’t do it here.’
‘No problem.’ He signalled to the waiter.
It was chilly standing in the porch waiting for the taxi and they said little on the short journey back.
‘Thanks for a lovely evening,’ she said, once the taxi had dropped them off. She could see that a light was on in one of the cottage’s windows. ‘I hope Izzy hasn’t stayed up waiting for me.’
‘I shouldn’t think so. Come on, I’ll make us coffee,’ he said, putting his arm on her waist. ‘You look cold. Stay with me tonight.’
‘I’m not in the mood,’ she said abruptly, shaking him off. ‘I’m sorry, Gareth. I will stay, but you must understand that …’ she struggled to say it, contenting herself with simply patting his arm and smiling up at him.
‘Not to worry.’ He smiled wryly as they made their way over to the caravan. ‘We have all the time in the world.’
Chapter Twenty One
GARETH MADE COFFEE. It was not the best idea at this hour, but Francesca needed it, a good strong cup of black coffee.
‘In your own time,’ he said. ‘And don’t spare me the details. I can take it.’
She started off by telling him about James’s accident, exactly what had happened and how useless she had been, how she felt totally responsible for the injury she had caused him and how she had ruined her little brother’s life, not to mention her mother’s.
‘Izzy did her best. She tried to help by telling Mother that it was I who rescued him, implying of course that I had jumped in straightaway as any sane sister would have done. And then the local paper got hold of it and made me out to be a heroine forgetting to mention that James was going to be permanently handicapped. People were congratulating me for heaven’s sake. And I let them.’
‘Once you start these balls rolling you can’t stop them. Where is he now?’
‘He’s in a special nursing home in Kent.’ She blinked back sudden, stinging tears. ‘After Mother died, it was the best I could do. I couldn’t look after him properly, not when I was working and everything, but it quickly swallowed up what bit of money Mother had left him. I had hoped that after I married David he would be happy for me to move James nearer to us up in Yorkshire. Once I got round to telling him that is.’
‘And now?’
‘He’s coming home,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ve earmarked the big room for him and I shall get a full-time carer in and she can have the smaller room and, please don’t look like that, Gareth, I have to have a carer because it’s just too much for me to look after him myself. He’s over six feet tall and heavy.’
‘Of course it’s too much. I wasn’t judging you for a minute. We would all like to do the caring ourselves, but it is better that he’s looked after professionally.’
‘And what do you know about it? Have you done a course in counselling?’
‘No.’ He flushed, taken aback no doubt at the aggressive tone.
‘Sorry. I’m a bit touchy about it. He will have the best of care now that I can afford it. I
’ve earmarked the money I got from selling off David’s paintings to pay for that. James will want for nothing for as long as he lives and I’ve even made arrangements for his continuing care if anything happens to me.’
‘Why the hell didn’t you tell Selina this?’
‘Because I haven’t been able to talk to anybody about it. Nobody except Izzy. I didn’t even talk to David about it. He thought I was an only child. He thought both my parents were dead as his were.’
‘And weren’t they?’
‘Well yes, now they are. My dad …’ she hesitated but she couldn’t stop now and before she knew it she had told him everything.
‘You poor love,’ he smiled and gathered her into his arms as she finished. ‘My God, you’ve gone through it recently.’
‘I feel all right about my dad,’ she said, mumbling into his shoulder. ‘I’m glad I saw him again and I’m glad that he forgave my mother. I never thought he cared about either of us and it turned out that he did. And now, if I can do something for James it will help me, help both of us. I want him to come home.’
‘Have you visited him?’
She nodded. ‘It’s painful. I don’t think he knew who I was. He smiled and was very nice and friendly but I think he thought I was just another lady who sits and chats to him. There was no recognition at all.’
‘I’m sure he knows deep down.’
‘I helped him do a jigsaw puzzle. He just stuffed the pieces into the wrong places like a child. I hope to goodness he knows it is home when he gets here. I’m worried sick that he’ll hate it and want to go back to the other place where he’s happy and I’m scared that he’ll think I’m a stranger.’ she stood up, exhausted suddenly, and needing her bed. ‘Where am I sleeping?’
‘With me, my darling,’ he said softly. He shifted slightly so that he could look at her, smiling and wiping away a stray tear. ‘I’m not leaving you alone tonight.’
Tearfully but happily, she raised her face to be kissed.
Izzy caught up with her next day. She had started packing prior to their leaving and she said she was both sad to be leaving, but pleased to be going home.
‘There’ll be mountains of washing,’ she said. ‘But it’ll be great to be back in our own bed with our own pillows and duvet. There’s nothing quite like your own bed.’
Francesca nodded. It was a very middle-aged comment and she was amazed that Izzy, the wonderful energetic Izzy, had uttered it. She knew that Izzy was hoping she would tell her what had happened between her and Gareth last night but she felt like a shy teenager again and did not feel up to discussing it.
It had been a powerfully emotional experience, her senses were on a high as a result of all that had happened to her which therefore took it to an entirely new level. Of course being in a caravan meant little privacy and she could hear and smile at the sounds Gareth was making in the little galley which were followed eventually by a breakfast tray in bed.
‘I don’t do this for anybody,’ he said as he proudly set it down. ‘Just for the ladies I sleep with.’
She laughed and pretended to throw the pillow at him, finding that she was surprisingly hungry and deftly demolishing the scrambled eggs he had prepared.
‘Don’t go yet,’ he implored after she had showered and dressed.
‘I’ll be back,’ she assured him. ‘I need time to think. Please don’t make me stay.’
Perversely half of her wanted him to do just that for she knew that it would only take a little persuading, but he did not. It was when she was putting her bag in her car that Izzy collared her.
‘I hope you weren’t sneaking off,’ she said.
‘No, I was going to pop in to see you before I go,’ Francesca told her, not entirely sure she had been. ‘It’s early, Izzy, I didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘Early? You are joking. If I wake up at seven, I’ve had a lie in. We aren’t going until midday so I’m leaving Victoria to cook them breakfast and having a final walk along the cliffs on my own. Want to come with me?’
Francesca looked up at the grey sky. The weather had changed overnight and it was chilly with a big bank of clouds overhead and darker more ominous ones in the distance.
‘It’s going to rain,’ she told Izzy.
‘So what?’ Izzy was wearing cropped pants, stretched tight across her bottom, with a lightweight anorak over them and, make-up free she looked dumpy and mumsy and yet, underneath it all, she looked tanned, relaxed and happy and having seen her with her children, Francesca knew that her maternal instincts, so ingrained and recognizable at a young age, had been satisfied. Hers had never existed and that was the way it was and the way it would be. There was no time for regrets.
‘Come on, it will do us good. We won’t go far and if it does rain I’ve got a brolly.’
‘You’ve been lucky with the weather. Have you enjoyed your holiday?’ Francesca asked as they set off down the track.
‘It’s been great. It’s back to work next week. Alan has got a big painting job and I’ve got a lot of paperwork to sort out.’
They fell into a comfortable silence, tramping uphill, puffing a bit.
‘I’m glad you’ve moved back here,’ Izzy said at last. ‘I never thought you would. I understand that completely, but to move back to your old house just seems crazy to me. All those awful memories.’
‘There were some good ones too. I love it down here, Izzy, and you must understand that. I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing but I’m bringing James back to live at the house. I shall have help with him,’ she added quickly.
‘I should hope so. There’s nothing to be gained by being a martyr to the cause.’
‘That’s what Gareth says.’
‘You could do worse than him.’ She glanced sharply at her.
‘I’ve only known him a little while.’
‘And?’ Izzy grinned. ‘It’s happened, hasn’t it? Don’t you dare deny it, I can tell just by looking at you. Was it good?’
‘Don’t be so nosy.’
They laughed and, as of old, the disgracefully indiscreet Izzy tucked her arm in Francesca’s telling her that it was still pretty fantastic with Alan, although they hardly ever got time these days as they normally had at least two of the girls coming into their bed at some time during the night.
They had walked further than they intended and were very nearly at the cliff edge, out of sight of the cottage when the first spots of rain fell and, in the distance, thunder rumbled.
‘Oh God, we’re not going to have lightning, are we?’ Francesca asked.
‘Probably, but there’s no need to panic. Don’t tell me you’re still scared of thunder?’ she glanced at Francesca, one look all she needed to confirm it. ‘OK. I don’t think we should try to go back because we’ll get caught out in the open. We’ll take shelter.’
‘Where? Don’t be daft. There’s nowhere to shelter, Izzy.’
Within minutes, horrifyingly quickly, the rain started pelting down in earnest and with the advancing storm the sky turned a peculiar yellow colour. It was more like early evening than early morning as Francesca quickly followed Izzy down the path to the beach and the shelter of a little cave. Underneath their feet the sand here was gritty with crunchy shells by the entrance and inside it smelled of seaweed and damp sand. Lying across a flat stone was a child’s lost sock, a white one with pink edging. They could see the sea, a murky dishwater of a sea, the waves rolling in, but not in any sinister way. It looked no worse than usual out there.
‘This is creepy.’ Francesca shuddered, looking round. ‘How did you know about this?’
‘I make it my business to know. Gareth told me about it and we’re perfectly safe and no the sea won’t come in this far so we’re not going to get cut off. Oh, there’s the lightning.’
There indeed was the lightning and Francesca, even though she tried, could not help a little yelp of fear.
‘Oh for goodness sake, you’re as bad as my kids. Do you want a cuddle?’ Izzy asked
with a grin. ‘Or are you a big girl now?’
Francesca managed a smile. ‘I’m all right,’ she said, although she was nervously counting seconds before the next rumble of thunder.
‘We have about as much chance of being hit by lightning as you have of having twins. Have a Polo.’ Izzy handed her a mint. ‘It’s circling us but we’ll wait a bit to make sure. It’s just an overhead storm and it will soon pass and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we see a rainbow when the sun comes out,’ she added in an authoritative voice as if she was a meteorologist.
‘Are you sure it’s passing over?’ Francesca asked, needing assurance.
‘Absolutely. It’s heading inland. In the meantime, we can have a nice chat,’ she said, taking off her anorak and laying it on the rock, moving the sock as she did so. She was wearing open toed sandals and her feet were gritty and dirty. Her hair was unruly and she was not wearing make-up but hell … her face was a lot smoother than Selina’s and it was something to do with serenity. Izzy, for all the chaos in her life, was doing what she wanted to do. Izzy was also with the man she loved. ‘Sit down and tell me what happened last night. You were back early and you both looked a little tense.’
‘Were you spying on us?’
‘No but I just happened to glance out of the window when I heard voices,’ she said airily. ‘You weren’t holding hands and you were striding along and I thought … oops, this doesn’t look good. Did you have a row?’
‘Not exactly. It was lovely at first,’ Francesca said, trapped but feeling better as the worst of the thunder and lightning seemed to be easing. ‘We dined out on the veranda and it was a gorgeous sunset.’
‘Yes I remember. We sat out a while too, just me and Alan, although he didn’t notice the sunset. He’s not into sunsets. Go on, tell me what happened.’
‘It started off so well, but the conversation turned to family and brothers and it just killed the mood.’
‘Did you tell him about James?’
Just Another Day Page 19
