Precious Time (36 page)
She moved towards him, to put a comforting hand on his shoulder but, with a creak of bones, Gabriel got there before her. He bent down to Ned, gently picked him up with his big-knuckled old hands and carried him outside.
Staying where she was, Clara watched them go. This was their moment. For something to do she repacked one of the cupboards and tried to ignore the large lump in her throat and the tears that were threatening to do their worst. Damn the man, why and how had he got to them both?
Finally they were in their seats with the engine running, and it really was time to go. Coming round to the driver’s side of the van, Gabriel poked his head through the open window. ‘You take good care of yourself, won’t you, Miss Costello?’
‘Is that an order?’
‘If needs be, yes.’
‘And you’ll take care as well, won’t you? Don’t lose any of those instructions I spent ages writing out for you. The dishwasher will need salt and Rinse-aid adding now and again, and you’ll also have to—’
‘Yes, yes, yes, Miss Costello. I have your infernal instructions Sellotaped to the inside of the cupboard, just as you insisted. I’ll have them tattooed on my chest if it will make you feel any better.’
She revved the engine and knocked the gear-lever into first. ‘Well, then, nothing more to be said. Apart from thanking you for having us to stay. Ned and I have had a great time. We won’t forget you in a hurry, that’s for sure.’
‘Pah! You’ll forget me so fast you won’t even remember to send me a postcard.’
‘We will remember,’ cried Ned, fiercely. ‘We’ll send you one every week.’
‘Goodbye, Mr Liberty. Despite everything, it’s been a pleasure.’
His grizzled head was still close to the window and, seizing her chance, she leaned towards him and kissed his bristly cheek.
‘What was that for?’
‘What do you think, you silly old fool?’
‘I never thought I’d say it, Miss Costello, but if I were a younger man—’
She laughed. ‘If you were a younger man, I wouldn’t have dared to kiss you.’
‘Oh, so old age makes me less of a sex object, does it?’
‘It makes you more accessible, you whingeing old pain in the proverbial!’
He laughed too, then reached through the window, lifted her right hand off the steering-wheel, raised it to his lips, and very gently kissed it. ‘I’m going to miss you, you delectable sharp-tongued girl.
You’ve been a breath of fresh air for me. Goodbye now. Drive safely.
And if you’re ever passing …’ but his voice trailed away.
Touched, she said, ‘We wouldn’t dream of not calling in on you if we were in the area. You can take that as a promise. Or maybe a threat!’
Steering Winnie out of the courtyard and tooting the horn, they gave one last wave to the solitary figure that stood in the shadow of the archway. He didn’t linger.
Neither Clara nor Ned spoke until they had reached the midway point down the long drive. Ned looked out of his window and said, ‘Shall I wave one more time in case Mr Liberty’s watching us from the tower?’
She patted his knee. ‘Good idea.’
He kept on waving until the house was almost out of sight. When they were nearly at the end of the drive, they saw a car approaching.
It was Jonah.
Clara was glad to see him. She reckoned Gabriel could do with some company right now, even if it was only someone he could bully. She pulled over so that Jonah could come alongside the van.
They wound down their windows at the same time.
Clara said, ‘How was it on the Western Front with your school trip?’
‘All quiet when we left it. Wet and cold too.’
‘Too bad. So, not at school today shaping fertile young minds?’
‘No, we’ve broken up for the Easter holidays. I’ve come to see if Dad wants some shopping fetching. Where are you off to?’
‘The Lake District. You’ll be pleased to know I’ve given up trying to marry your father and swindle him out of his vast fortune.’
‘You’re leaving?’
‘Yes, Ned and I are moving on to pastures new, where scheming gold-diggers are given the proper respect they deserve.’
He smiled, not hugely, but enough for her to realise how attractive he was. Yet what struck her most about him in that split second, as she took in the curve of his mouth and the way his hazel eyes caught the light as he looked up at her, was that everything about him was reminiscent of the young woman in the painting in his father’s library. The likeness to his mother was unmistakable and she wondered if he was aware of it, and whether or not Gabriel found it a comfort or a painful reminder of what he had lost.
‘Caspar will be relieved to hear that,’ he said good-humouredly.
‘Scaring off a potential stepmother would have been a time consuming business for him.’
‘I bet it would. But do me a favour, will you? Persevere with your father.’
The smile was gone and his face turned awkward and defensive.
Annoyed that she seemed to have an uncanny knack for rubbing him up the wrong way, she said, ‘I might have misjudged you when I first met you, but … well, a week with your father and I think I understand things better now.’
But the smile didn’t reappear as she had hoped it might. ‘I doubt that,’ he said, with feeling. ‘Anyway, thanks for everything you’ve done for Dad. I’ll do my best to carry on where you’ve left off. That’s if he’ll let me.’
‘I find the shotgun approach usually works. You ram it up his nose and lay out your demands. Nothing to it. Goodbye.’
9 April
Dear Archie,
Apologies for sneaking out of town without saying goodbye. Ned was so upset about leaving Mermaid House I thought it better to keep the farewells to a minimum. As you can see, we’re in the Lake District now - weather damp, scenery stunning, people almost as friendly as those in Deaconsbridge.
Thanks for all your help at Mermaid House.
Regards, Clara and Ned
P.S. What happened to the posse?
10 April
Dear Louise and associated rabble,
The hardship continues! Currently languishing beside beautiful Lake Windermere with Mrs Tiggywinkle and chums and getting fat on cream teas. Tomorrow we’re going in search of lonely clouds and hosts of golden daffodils. Sorry I still haven’t got round to phoning - will try to mend my ways. Do hope you’re all behaving yourselves and missing us terribly.
Love from Clara and Ned
P.S. Happy Easter!
11 April
Dear Mr Liberty,
Just to prove we keep our promises, Easter greetings from Dove Cottage, the home of William Wordsworth. Maybe you should
pen a few lines of poetry and open Mermaid House to the
public, I’m sure you’d love thousands of tourists tramping through your home. Think how rude you could be to them!
Ned says thank you very much for the money you gave him that was v. naughty of you (slapped wrists!), but v. kind. He’s used some of it to buy himself a pocket-sized Peter Rabbit.
Take care,
Ned and Miss Costello
P.S. Have you advertised for a cleaner yet?
Bateson, Hardy, Willets and Co.,
Chartered Accountants,
Dean Street,
Manchester.
Mio 9PQ
16 April 2001
Dear Caspar,
Re: Tax Return - C. Liberty.
Please find enclosed copy of latest letter received from the Inland Revenue.
In view of the claims made, I suggest we meet and discuss the matter so that we can devise some sort of strategy that will satisfy our friends at the IR.
Kind regards,
Harvey Wilson
2 Canal View,
Manchester
21 April
Dear Damson,
What the hell’s going on? Why won’t you speak to me?
Five times I’ve tried to get you on the phone and on each
occasion some Guardian-reading, bean-eating beardy type has told me it’s not convenient. Since when is it not convenient to speak to your brother? Or is this all part of the brainwashing process that’s going on up there?
Damson, surely you can see what’s happening. Divide and
conquer, it’s how these cults operate. They isolate you from those who care about you, telling you it’s for your own good.
If I don’t hear from you soon, I will personally come up there and beat the
out of that patronising wimp of a man who won’t let me speak to you.
Caspar
P.S. How much money have they stung you for?
Rosewood Manor Healing Centre,
Blydale Village,
Northumberland.
Saturday, 26 April.
Darling Caspar,
If you really care about me, don’t be silly and drive all the way up here just to take out your frustration on poor Roland - who is neither vegetarian nor the wearer of a beard, and he certainly doesn’t read the Guardian] Instead, why don’t you write and tell me what’s wrong. And please don’t deny that there is anything bothering you - as twins, you know I always feel it when
something is wrong with you.
Love and warmest wishes,
Damson
27 April,
Dear Louise and everyone,
Here we are north of the border! Glasgow is terrific! Moira, you’d love it - more designer shops than you can shake a stick at. Wall-to-wall Rennie Mackintosh stuff as well, tho’ not sure Ned shared my enthusiasm for it! Tomorrow we’re setting sail for the bonnie banks of Loch Lomond - Rob Roy country.
Och aye the noo!
Clara and Ned
P.S. It was great to speak to you on the phone last week, Louise - it almost made me miss you!
28 April
Dear Mr Liberty,
Saw this wonderful card of a fierce-looking Scotsman playing the bagpipes and thought of you! Ever thought of dyeing your hair red?
Hope you’re taking care of yourself and haven’t slipped back into your bad old ways.
Best wishes,
Ned and Miss Costello
Bateson, Hardy, Willets and Co.,
Chartered Accountants,
Dean Street,
Manchester,
Mio 9PQ
1 May 2001
Dear Caspar,
Re: Tax Return - C. Liberty.
Once again I enclose a copy of the latest communication from the Inland Revenue. As you can see from the detailed documentation, they leave us with little choice or room for manoeuvre.
Kind regards,
Harvey Wilson
2 Canal View,
Manchester
5 May
Dear Damson,
I would much rather discuss this over the phone, or even face to face. Please let me speak to you.
Caspar
P.S. I might have guessed his name was bloody Roland!
Rosewood Manor Healing Centre,
Blydale Village, Northumberland
Monday, 6 May
Dearest Caspar,
So much anger!
Please, just tell me what’s wrong.
Thinking of you, all my love,
Damson
17 Cross Street,
Deaconsbridge
7 May
Dear Stella,
Before the solicitors get too carried away with their expensive games, why don’t we meet and discuss matters in private, just the two of us? It’s the least we owe each other.
Yours hopefully,
Archie
P.S. We don’t have to meet in Deaconsbridge if you don’t want to. You choose.
2a Carlisle Terrace,
Macclesfield,
Cheshire
12 May
Dear Archie,
I could meet you a week next Tuesday after work in Buxton, but only for a short while. I’ll see you 6.00 by the bandstand.
Stella
Date: 14/05/01 14.44GMT Daylight Time
From: [email protected] To: [email protected]
Hope I’m in luck and that you’re sitting in the office twiddling your thumbs as you always used to!
It had to happen sooner or later; I’ve found myself in a cyber cafe in the middle of Edinburgh emailing you silly boys. How goes it? Who and what is the latest gossip? Don’t hold back on the dirt!
Date: 14/05/01 14.49GMT Daylight Time
From: [email protected] To: [email protected]
Hey, Clarabelle, is that really you? This is like old times. Makes me realise how much I miss your sharply worded e-mails! I’m working from home today, so we can gossip quite freely - no chance of the surfing police earwigging! We have it on good authority (David), that the big chiefs in Wilmington are
dispatching a couple of their smart-alecky types to suss out the takeover - Les Francais Garcons are definitely putting their Francs on the table so it’s all systems go. Not that anyone is supposed to know this, of course, but I don’t need to tell you that it’s been common knowledge here for some time that the plant doesn’t fit in with the strategic direction of the CEO’s thinking. And guess who’s coming to see us? None other than the big honcho lawyer himself, Fenton Bexley and the stellar-rated finance director, Todd Mason Angel. Aren’t we the lucky ones?
Fondest etceteras,
Guy
P.S. Didn’t you get to know TMA during your stint in
Wilmington? What’s he like? Is he likely to drive the women on the packing line mad with desire? You know what they were like with the last blue-eyed wonder boy who crossed the water to see us! Sexual harassment didn’t come close!
UK”
It was five weeks since Gabriel had received the first of the postcards from Ned and Miss Costello and he had kept each one they had sent.
He had them carefully lined up along the kitchen windowsill and every day, around twelve o’clock, when the postman finally got round to making a delivery at Mermaid House, he hung on to the hope that there would be a new addition for his collection.
It was a mild, sunny morning in May and he bent down to gather the scattering of envelopes that were spread so far and wide that he wondered if the postman made a game of firing the mail through the letterbox to see how far it would go.
