Precious Time (55 page)

‘It might be better if we did a swap,’ Jonah said, thinking of his brother’s reaction to anyone else driving his expensive car. ‘Caspar might prefer to have his own car when he gets home. Which means, I’m afraid, you’ll have my old wreck to cope with.’

‘Whatever you think best.’

Jonah and Roland had stayed up late, talking long into the night.

Jonah was glad of the opportunity to talk to someone who seemed to have understood his sister better than anyone. ‘Does everyone here get such special treatment?’ he had asked, conscious that his question sounded disagreeably loaded.

But Roland took it in his stride. ‘Damson was special to me.’

‘You loved her?’

‘Not in the physical sense, if that’s what you mean. I didn’t exploit her like so many had before. She needed someone to love her for what she was. Battle scars and all. We were friends. Close spiritual friends.’ He looked away, stared into the distance, lost in his own thoughts. Jonah realised that this man, who had taken Damson under his wing and given her unconditional love, which she had had from no one else, was grieving privately for her.

They arrived home to find Mermaid House empty, just as Jonah had known it would be. But there were still some comforting signs of Clara’s presence, from the freshly made-up beds, to the flowers on the kitchen table and the two letters she had left for them.

Jonah had told his father in the car on the way up to

Northumberland that Clara and Ned would be gone when they

returned. He had explained the reasons why, and Gabriel had said, ‘She once told me that we all scourge ourselves from time to time with a bit of soul-searching. Obviously, she knew what she was talking about. I hope the boy’s father behaves decently.’

It was strange being home. Strange because, though it felt familiar and welcoming, it no longer felt like home. Which was an absurd reaction, Clara decided, they hadn’t been away for that long.

But it was great to see Louise and the Gang again. When she had phoned Louise to ask if she and Ned could stay with her and David, she had been met with, ‘Oh, so you’re bored with being cooped up in a campervan, are you? No danger of me being proved right, is there?’

‘Rule number one for us travelling folk, we grab the chance of free facilities whenever and however we can.’

‘You’re nothing but a freeloading parasite,’ Louise had laughed.

They had arrived at David and Louise’s last night, after a long, tedious journey. Guy and Moira were there too, and they’d stayed up late with several bottles of wine and a Chinese takeaway. Ned had fallen asleep on the sofa and David had carried him upstairs and put him to bed. ‘Just like old times,’ he said, coming down shortly afterwards, ‘except that he’s grown and he’s heavier. I’ll have to get down to the gym and build up my muscles if he’s going to keep growing at the same rate.’

It was now Thursday morning and Louise had managed to get the day off work, so that she could indulge in a marathon gossiping session with Clara. She had devised a simple but guaranteed way to keep Ned amused. He had been denied access to a television since March, so he was putty in her hands when she switched on David’s latest toy, an enormous wide-screen telly. Sitting cross-legged on the floor with a tube of Pringles and a pile of videos, he was hypnotised.

‘I don’t approve of you brainwashing my son,’ said Clara, when they retreated to the kitchen and Louise put a large cafetiere of coffee on the table, with two mugs and a jug of milk.

‘Now don’t come over the perfect Goody-Two-Shoes mother with me,’ said Louise. ‘Let me have you all to myself, just this once. And I said it last night, and I’ll say it again, you look fantastic. Better than I’ve seen you in years. You’re glowing with so much good health I almost hate you. I love the hair too. Makes you look years younger.’

‘You should have seen me two weeks ago when I had flu, I looked like death on legs.’

Louise smiled. ‘So bring on the lovely Jonah who took such great care of you. Give me a proper run-down on him.’

‘I told you everything last night.’

‘No, you didn’t. That’s what you were prepared to tell us as a group. Now that it’s just the two of us, I want the important bits you’ve held back.’

Clara reached for the cafetiere, pushed the plunger down, then poured their coffee. ‘Honestly, there really isn’t much more to tell.’

‘But you think you could go the distance with him?’

‘I think I could, but I’m not sure that it’s worth the trouble of trying. My life is here, and his is there. Why invest valuable time and effort, not to say emotion, in something that has no future?’

Louise added milk to her coffee and stirred it. ‘You don’t know that, not for sure. You wouldn’t be hedging your bets, by any chance, would you?’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning Mr Todd Mason Angel. Don’t forget I’ve met him. He’s knock-out smart and extremely easy on the eye, just your kind of man, I’d say.’

Clara frowned. She straightened the mats on the table, squared them precisely. ‘I admit he was my kind of man,’ she said

thoughtfully, ‘which is why I fell in love with him in the first place.

But I certainly haven’t come back here to meet him under the delusion that we’ll magically pick up where we left off. I’m not that stupid.’

‘But how would you react if he suggested you did do exactly that?’

She was saved from answering the question by the telephone. It was David calling to say that the first part of Clara’s plan had been put into place.

Todd had accepted an invitation to meet for a drink after work.

Except it wouldn’t be a drink with Guy and David as he thought.

Ned didn’t bat an eyelid when Clara said she had to go out for a while that evening. He was much too busy to worry about where she was going or what she doing. He was showing Louise his scrapbook and he was telling her all about Mr Liberty and the amazing house he lived in; about the tower, the secret passageway in the library, and the badgers down in the copse. Clara kissed the top of his head, gave her friend a grateful smile, and slipped away.

Louise had kindly loaned her the use of her BMW, and with the soft top down she drove to the Kingfisher Arms where Todd was expecting to meet Guy and David.

It was a lovely summer’s evening, and the car park at the front of the pub was almost full. Though it was mid-week, it seemed that everyone had decided to come out and enjoy the warm weather.

David had told her that Todd was driving a hired bronze-coloured Lexus. She saw it straight away and her heart began to pound.

Inside the pub, she scanned the bar, but drew a blank. She ordered a glass of fizzy water and took it out to the garden where she flipped down her sunglasses and surveyed the tables of drinkers. She eliminated them one by one. Then she saw him. He was sideways on to her, dressed in his work clothes - a lightweight suit and pale blue shirt. He had loosened his tie, undone the button on his collar, and there was no denying that he stood out from the crowd. He had that indefinable quality that made it obvious he was from across the Atlantic. Part of it was the confidence in his bearing, the head held high, the neatly cut hair, the firm jaw. He looked well, and just as handsome. Just as she had remembered him. The only thing different about him were the glasses, but they enhanced rather than detracted from his features.

She began the long walk across the garden, shaking so much that she was spilling her drink. She tried to steady her hand, as well as her nerve. She was almost upon him when he turned. For a moment he looked as if he had seen a ghost: his mouth dropped open and he simply stared. Then disbelief propelled him to his feet. ‘Clara?’

She raised her sunglasses, as though it might convince him it really was her, that she was no ghost. ‘Hello, Todd. Mind if I join you?’

There was so much they had to say but neither knew where to start, other than with a polite exchange.

‘I like your hair. It suits you.’

‘Thank you. The same goes for you and the glasses.’

‘I hear you’ve been away, travelling.’

‘Yes. Life on the open road. How are you getting on with the French?’

‘Fine. We should be done by next week. The shares will really hit … Oh, hell, Clara, this is no good. Talk to me properly. Tell me how you really are. Tell me about Ned … about our son.’

Her mouth clamped itself shut. She repeated his words inside her head.

Our son.

Our son.

Suddenly she felt as if all the strength had been ripped out of her. If she hadn’t been sitting down, she would have fallen to the ground.

All this time Ned had been her son. Now, just like that, he was to be shared.

To her horror, she began to cry, but didn’t know why. She felt Todd’s arms around her and she leaned into him, remembering how good he had always felt. How good it had been between them.

Through blinding tears, she felt him pulling her up, then leading her away. He took her down towards the river, to the shade and privacy of the willow trees that arched their graceful branches over the water.

‘I’m sorry.’ She gulped and sniffed. ‘I had no idea I was going to react like that. It’s just—’

He held her tightly. ‘How do you think I feel? When I found out about Ned I nearly went crazy. I’ve been out of my mind, not knowing what I should do. I so badly wanted to turn to your friends, but it was clear they didn’t know about us. Oh, Clara, why didn’t you tell me?’

She straightened up, pulled away from him. ‘You know the answer to that. I didn’t want to ruin everything for you. I knew how much your wife and children meant to you, and the day I discovered I was pregnant, you came into my office and told me you and Gayle were getting back together.’

‘Oh, my God, you knew then.’ He took his glasses off and passed his hand over his eyes. ‘If only I’d known.’

‘It wouldn’t have worked, Todd. Ned and I would have got in the way of what you really wanted. What you already had … Gayle and your girls.’

She could tell from the look in his eyes and his silence that she had been right. She had been right all along. Vindicated, at last. She turned away from him, let her gaze fall on a pair of mallard ducks that were kicking up a row further along the river. Composed now, she said, ‘Let’s go back. I don’t know about you, but I’m in need of a real burn-the-back-off-your-throat drink.’

Their table was still free, and after Todd had fetched two glasses of Jack Daniel’s, she said, ‘It’s important that you understand I expect nothing from you. I made the decision to have Ned and he’s my responsibility. I’m not about to make any demands of you.’

‘Now hold on a minute, Clara. I hear what you’re saying, but the situation has changed. I can no more turn my back on Ned than I could disown my children back home. Don’t I have a say in anything to do with him?’

Clara felt a knot of panic tighten in her stomach. If Todd wanted to feature in his son’s life, she would have to part with him. Todd would want to have him over in the States for prolonged stays. And the more that happened, the more likely it was that Ned would grow away from her. Tears threatened again, but she fought them back and took a gulp of her drink. She was being irrational, she told herself. She looked at Todd warily. ‘What are you proposing to do?’

she asked. ‘Tell your wife?’

He lowered his gaze and played with his glass, turning it round slowly. She knew she’d hit him below the belt, that she had deliberately tried to score a point off him. She felt cheap and unworthy. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘that was uncalled-for.’

He let out his breath. ‘It’s a perfectly valid question, though, and one for which I don’t have a ready answer. It’s what I’ve thought of ever since I guessed who the boy with the neat smile was in the photographs your friends showed me.’

On firmer ground now, she relaxed a little and said, ‘It’s your smile.’

He shook his head. ‘That’s great. Just wonderful. My daughters look like Gayle, but the child I’ve never seen takes after me.’

‘My mother describes his smile as a gift from the angels.’

‘Oh, my. And who says we Yanks don’t get irony?’

They sipped their drinks. ‘You haven’t married, then?’

‘No, Todd. Probably something to do with not having the time or energy to bag myself a good ‘un.’

‘But you’ve managed okay on your own? I mean, financially.’

She bristled. ‘Financially I’ve been fine. Making money hand over fist.’

‘I’m sorry. That was rude and patronising of me. But it can’t have been too easy bringing up a child on your own.’

‘Everyone says that to me, but it’s been okay. Mum and Dad have been great. My friends too.’

As if sensing he was treading on thin ice and thinking a change of subject would be a good idea, he said, ‘So what made you trade in Phoenix for a camper? I would never have had you down as doing something as off the chart as that.’

People change, she wanted to say, feeling another frisson of antagonism. ‘It was Ned,’ she said. ‘I wanted to spend more time with him before he starts school in September. It was now or never.’

‘So what kind of school have you got in mind for him?’

Again, she felt herself tense with possessive defensiveness. ‘A dreadful school, of course.’

He looked at her, puzzled. ‘What is it, Clara? I’m getting the feeling I’m saying all the wrong things.’

She drained her glass. ‘Forget it. It’s me. I can’t handle this. I thought I could. But the truth is, I’m not sure I want to share Ned with you. I’ve done everything for him, made all decisions, wiped away all the tears, read all the books, sat up all the nights—’

He laid a firm hand on her arm and stopped her. ‘You did all that, and much more, because you chose to do it, Clara. Don’t sit there throwing hurtful accusations at me. While you were doing all those things, I never even knew Ned existed. So don’t try to make me feel guilty.’

She pushed his hand away. ‘And if you had known of his

existence, what would you have done?’ She watched him collect his thoughts before making his measured reply.

‘You’re angry with me, I can see that. And I can’t blame you. But please, don’t think I don’t care about Ned now. I do. I have no idea how to resolve things, but I promise you, I’ll do my best by him.