Rachel's Coming Home (17 page)

Rachel and her mother were busy planning the sixtieth birthday party. Her mother had taken to the idea with alacrity and it had been decided to try and keep it a secret from her father. They weren't very sure they could manage this, John being rather observant, but they thought it was worth a try.

‘Do you think we dare count on good weather?' said her mother, glancing out of the conservatory windows. For the first time today there was a hint of autumn in the air, with wisps of mist in the valleys and an orangey tinge to the bracken.

‘I don't think we can
count
on it,' said Rachel cautiously. The weather had improved since those two weeks of torrential rain, but the heat of the early summer was well and truly a thing of the past. ‘I think we need to work out how many people we can cope with if we open up the conservatory through to the kitchen here. The sitting room is still a disaster area until the new carpets arrive.'

‘Yes, I think we'll definitely leave the sitting room out of the equation. It's a lovely little room for the family, but even at the best of times you couldn't say it was spacious.'

‘Your idea to add the conservatory was great,' said Rachel. ‘It's made such a difference to the house. Now, how many people were you thinking of inviting?'

They spent the next half hour happily listing friends both local and from further afield. Maggie was keen to invite her husband's brothers. His elder brother and his wife lived near Coventry and Rachel thought there was a good chance they would come, but she doubted very much if his rather wild younger brother would make it from France. Eventually they decided on a list of forty invitees, of whom less than thirty were realistically likely to attend.

‘That's plenty,' said Rachel. ‘Catering for that many will be a lot of work. I wonder if we should get in someone from outside.'

‘No,' said her mother with unexpected firmness. ‘I'm not nearly as fragile as you think, Rachel. I've been enjoying getting back into cooking now you are taking on more of the outside work. I can prepare things over the next couple of weeks and freeze them. There'll be plenty.'

‘If you're sure …'

‘I'm sure. Now, as time is rather short I think we should phone people rather than send out invitations. I'll do family and we can maybe split the neighbours between us. I thought, for example, you could do the younger people, such as Philip Milligan.'

She left a pause and Rachel sighed. She really didn't know what had happened with Philip, why he had disappeared from their lives. She was concentrating on helping her parents making a go of the kennels. She didn't want to think about this annoying man, but if she mentioned that to her mother she would only worry.

‘Yes, I'll phone him,' she said as brightly as she was able. ‘Why don't you do a list of who you want me to contact and I'll make a start this afternoon when Dad is at the bowling.'

‘That's a good idea,' said her mother. ‘I'm so glad your father is well enough to get back to his bowls, he does enjoy it. You know, that ankle is almost as good as new. The hospital did an excellent job.'

‘Let's hope they can do as good a one for you. When are you due back at outpatients to have your medications reviewed?'

‘Next week. But don't you worry about me, Rachel. You worry far too much about your parents. We're fine, and we're enjoying having you here, but you've got to think about getting on with your own life.'

Rachel was surprised. Her mother must be feeling a lot better if she was reverting to the bossy ways Rachel remembered from her teenage years. Maybe that's where Rachel got it from? Not that she was bossy, exactly, just that she could see what needed doing and liked to make sure it was done.

‘My life's great,' she said, giving her mother a hug. ‘Now I'm going to take Jim the Great Dane for a walk, and after lunch I'll start phoning.'

Most of the phone calls went very well. Rachel knew her parents' acquaintances from visits home over recent years, and was enjoying learning more about them now she had settled here for good. She chatted happily with all and sundry, confirming that the worst of the flood damage was now dealt with, that her father really didn't look sixty did he, and how pleasant it would be if they had a nice dry autumn. She left Philip Milligan until last. She really wasn't sure what to say to him.

‘Milligan here,' he said on answering. His tones were clipped and reminded Rachel of how he had first appeared, remote and abrupt.

‘Oh, Philip. It's Rachel.' She felt suddenly breathless.

‘Ah. Rachel. How are you?'

‘Fine. Keeping busy, you know. How are you? And Amelia?'

‘We're both fine. We've been meaning to call in and see you, but, ah, never seemed quite the right time.'

‘Amelia's still with you is she?' asked Rachel, wondering exactly what he meant by those words.

‘Goes back this week, as it happens.'

‘Wish her all the best from me,' said Rachel. She would have liked to invite them round for a ‘goodbye' tea, but was unsure how that would be received. ‘I'm phoning up on my parents' behalf, actually. My father turns sixty in a couple of weeks' time and we're arranging a party for him. They wondered if you might be able to come?' She told him the date and time, pleased with herself for issuing the invitation in her parents' name rather than her own.

‘That's very kind of them,' said Philip in a cool voice that made her immediately fear the worst. ‘I'm not sure I'll be back from down south. After I've dropped Amelia at her mother's, I'm going on to London to see my agent. I've taken rather too long off this summer, time I was thinking about getting back to work.'

‘The invitation's there if you're back in time,' said Rachel primly. ‘I hope the trip goes well.'

She was left feeling empty after the phone call. It annoyed her. Why had Philip Milligan embarked on a friendship with her if he didn't mean to take it anywhere? And why on earth did she care? Definitely time to think about what she was going to do with her new life here, and what kind of dog she really wanted.

Anthony looked around Rupert Randall's workshop as though he were in Aladdin's cave. This was his third visit, but he still hadn't taken it all in. Everything fascinated him, from the massive prints leaning against the back wall to the trays of tiny cutting knives. Even the smell, of glue and ink and he didn't know what else, was tantalising.

Rupert was bent over the work bench, engrossed in his cutting, and had merely grunted when Anthony appeared. Now he straightened to his not very considerable height.

‘Good to see you. I've an order for twenty more of those
Mountains at Dusk
prints, I thought you could maybe run them off for me?'

Anthony nodded. So far he had only run off a print under Rupert's supervision. This was a step forward. And maybe, one day soon, he would be allowed to try some lino cuts of his own. He had been doodling with design ideas at the desk in his bedroom, but he hadn't shown those to anyone yet.

They worked in silence until Rupert decreed it was time for a coffee break. They went over to the house for this, Rupert not willing to sully his workshop with kitchen paraphernalia.

‘How's that nice young lady I met you with at the show?' he asked as they sat down at the tiny kitchen table.

‘She's fine. She's off to college the day after tomorrow.' Anthony had been trying not to think about this.

‘Art College?'

‘No, she's doing Business Studies. She says it'll be interesting.'

‘I could do with someone looking after the business side of things here for me,' said Rupert, rubbing his nose meditatively. ‘My wife used to take care of that.'

‘Your wife?' said Anthony. He hadn't thought of Rupert as the kind of person who married, had a family.

‘Aye. Janie. She died two years ago. I still miss her.'

‘I, er, sorry,' said Anthony.

The man shot him a brief smile from his dark little eyes. ‘The house wasn't always such a mess, you know. I manage as well as I can, but there never seems to be time for everything. Especially not things like accounts and tax returns.'

Anthony shuddered at the thought of them. ‘My sister seems to like doing things like that,' he said, still amazed that this could be true. ‘She's taken over the accounts side of my parents' business. They're relieved and she says it suits her, putting figures neatly into columns. I suppose it is the kind of thing that would suit her. She does like everything to be organised.'

‘If she's looking for a few hours' work, tell her to pop round and see me,' said Rupert. ‘It'd only be a couple of hours here and there but it would be a great help.'

‘I'll mention it to her. I don't really know what she wants to do with herself. She's actually a teacher but I don't know if she's going to look for a job here. She used to live in Liverpool.'

‘Aye, could tell none of you were local. She's a nice lass, your sister, I'm sure she'll find her feet all right.'

Anthony sighed, in no doubt that this was true. But when would he find his own feet? He was enjoying spending time with Rupert, loving it actually, but it wasn't going to lead anywhere, was it? He was glad when they walked back to the workshop and he could engross himself in the mechanism of printing.

He left Rupert's at five and went home quickly to shower and change. Gemma had stopped working at the Boroughbie Arms the previous weekend and he had hardly seen her since. Tonight, to his secret surprise, she had agreed to go out to the movies with him, as a farewell. He was both looking forward to and dreading it.

He borrowed his mother's car and picked her up at the end of the farm track. As usual, he wasn't allowed to go up to the house.

‘Let's not go to the movie,' said Gemma as they neared the town. ‘Can we go somewhere to talk, instead?'

Anthony was delighted. He'd far rather spend time somewhere he could see her than in the dark of the movie house.

He took her to a little bar-café that had some tables in the garden. Gemma wasn't yet eighteen and he suddenly felt protective, not keen to take her into a rowdy bar. He was relieved when she asked for a fruit juice. He chose a shandy for himself, as he was driving.

‘This is a nice place,' said Gemma, looking around the small but sunny garden. ‘I've never been before.'

Anthony wasn't surprised. Her father wasn't the sort who would take her out or encourage her to go with her friends.

‘So how does it feel, just about to venture out in to the big wide world?' he asked encouragingly. For all her suggestion they go somewhere to talk, she was now very quiet.

‘I'm worried about Dad,' she said, turning the glass round and round in her hands. ‘He's really miserable about me going. He doesn't say much, but I know he's dreading it.'

Anthony didn't want her to go away either, but now he felt immensely irritated with this man.

‘It's your life, you've got to live it. He can't keep you at home for ever.'

‘I know. And I've told him that I'll come home as many weekends as I can, and every holiday. And once I graduate I can come back home to live, like your sister Rachel has done.'

Anthony was sure Rachel had come home to suit herself rather than her parents, but he didn't say so. He wondered where he would be in four years' time, if and when Gemma returned.

‘Surely he wants you to get good qualifications,' he said rallyingly. ‘You said he was pleased with your exam results.'

‘But he's going to be so lonely when I'm away. And I help a bit round the farm, he's going to miss that too.'

‘He'll just have to get someone in to do it,' said Anthony. It seemed quite obvious to him.

‘Yes, that's what I thought.' Gemma hesitated, glancing at him from beneath lowered lashes. ‘The thing is, I was wondering. I know you've got a part-time job at the hotel, and you're helping Rupert Randall out a bit, but I wondered if you'd like another part-time job – a bit closer to home.'

Anthony looked at her aghast. She couldn't be suggesting what he thought she was suggesting. ‘I hardly know your father. And you have to admit it, he doesn't like me.'

‘That's because he doesn't know you, like you said. This is a way for him to get to know you.' Gemma's tone was triumphant now. ‘Everyone you've worked for is really pleased with you.'

‘Once Mrs Mackenzie got over her shock at me arguing with her customers.'

‘And once Dad gets to know you I'm sure he'll like you. And I'd worry less about him, if I knew you were round there once or twice a week.'

Anthony was flabbergasted. He wanted to do something to please Gemma, but he really couldn't see this working out.

‘And what does your father think?' he asked cautiously. It would be much easier if Gemma's father put an end to the idea, then he wouldn't be the one turning her down.

‘I haven't mentioned it to him yet. I thought I should speak to you first.'

‘But I don't know anything about farming, I'm not sure I'd be any use.' Anthony was prevaricating now.

‘You're good with animals, at least you are with the dogs. And you're strong. And quite sensible.' She grinned at him as she said that, which made his heart do a little flip. ‘More sensible than you used to be. You'd just need to do whatever he told you. You can drive a car so you'd manage the tractor no problem.'

‘You drive the tractor?' said Anthony, impressed.

‘Yes. I told you, I have to help where I can. When Mum was alive we had a bigger place and they both farmed it together … Dad hasn't always been so solitary, you know.'

The sat in silence for a moment. Gemma sipped her drink, her expression sad now because she had mentioned her mother.

‘What happened to your mother?' asked Anthony tentatively. No one seemed to know and Gemma never spoke about it.