Rachel's Coming Home (19 page)

Rachel was horrified. ‘But you love it here! And think of all the people who rely on you to look after their dogs. For all your problems, you've built up quite a regular clientele. And Mum likes the space and quiet.'

‘But she'd also like to be in walking distance of the shops. She's finding it more and more difficult to drive and it would be nice for her not to have to rely on me. Or you.'

‘I don't mind. I love being here.'

‘You've been a great help, Rachel, but this was our plan, not yours. You need to think what you want to do for yourself.' He left the trowel standing in the damp soil and turned to look directly at her for the first time. He smiled sadly, the laughter lines no longer seeming a sign of cheer. ‘It's not only Anthony who doesn't seem to know what to do with his life.'

‘But …' said Rachel. She couldn't understand how this conversation had turned round and now seemed to be about her. ‘I'm loving being here.'

‘And as I said, we love having you. But this could only ever be a temporary arrangement. Your mother and I enjoy having both our children at home just now but we've always known that you'll grow up and move on to live your own lives one day. We're quite happy with that. We've got each other.'

Rachel met his eyes and felt guilty. She had thought she was the one being helpful here, doing the right thing, which just happened to suit what she wanted to do. Now she wondered for the first time if her parents resented her coming home. She felt her heart sink and a great hollow feeling envelope her.

‘I'm in the way, aren't I?'

‘No, my dear, you will never be in the way. We love having you here. But, in the long run, we want to see you settled doing something you want to do, not helping us do something we want to do.'

There was a familiar ring to these words. Rachel seemed to remember saying something very similar to Anthony. Why had she not realised that they applied to her, too?

‘I never took a gap year,' she said at last. ‘Surely I'm allowed to have one year out, to see how it feels?'

‘Rachel, you're allowed to have as long “out” as you want. You work too hard, taking a proper break would do you good. But in the long run, only you can know what it really is you want to do with your life.'

When Rachel left her father she took two of the dogs and headed up into the hills. Her feelings were too confused to return to the house and her mother. This was the most serious conversation she could remember ever having with her father. She was shaken, not just be what he had said, but that he had made the effort to say it. He seemed to think she needed advice, just as much as she thought everyone else did.

The higher she climbed through the crisp autumn grass the clearer one thing became. Before she could think about her future, she needed to find out what was causing her parents' problems. It was the sight of the new earth works that made her decide this. She examined them closely, keeping the dogs firmly on their leads but nevertheless expecting farmer Freddy Smith to appear over the brow of a hill, shouting at her. The digger had disappeared, but, from what she could see, new trenches had been dug to drain water from the upper slopes. And they all drained into the Inshie Burn. Strange how that coincided with the first time the burn had flooded. She thought it was about time she tackled Freddy Smith on this issue, and maybe one or two others as well.

Once she had done that, maybe it would be time to move on.

Philip returned from London filled with a new sense of purpose. Not only had his agent been very positive about the first draft of his book, but there was a good chance the
Every House
television series would be commissioned for another season. He thought after one further run it would be about the right time to draw it to a conclusion.

As he drove the winding stretch of road towards Collington Kennels, his spirits rose. He couldn't be sure, of course, that Rachel would be there, but just the possibility of seeing her made his heart race a little faster. He was still afraid of what might happen if he opened himself up to this beautiful girl, but he was determined now to take the risk.

It was Maggie Collington who opened the door to him. She shook his hand warmly. ‘Lovely to see you again. You will stay and have a cup of tea, won't you? I've just baked a Victoria sponge, it would be a shame not to cut in to it while it's fresh. I'll let John know you're here and he can bring Bill and Ben down. They've been very good, such happy dogs …'

Philip allowed himself to be ushered in to the kitchen and let the chatter wash over him. He was happy the dogs were in good health, not that he had expected anything different. He knew the Collingtons well enough by now to realise that whatever rumours were going around about the kennels were pure fabrication. What he really wanted to know was the whereabouts of Rachel. He was sure if he waited long enough he would find out and sure enough Maggie soon moved on to this subject.

‘Rachel will be so sorry she missed you. She's gone to Edinburgh for the day. She and an old school friend have been trying to arrange to meet up for a while and eventually they managed it. I'm so pleased for her, she deserves a day out. Edinburgh is a lovely city, isn't it? Do you know it well yourself?'

Philip hid his disappointment and managed to engage in a discussion of the attractions of Edinburgh. He liked Maggie Collington, but was more at ease with her husband. Once John joined them the conversation turned immediately to more interesting things, such as the plans to re-enact a medieval battle in the grounds of a local tower house. Philip had realised that if he was to live in this area there was no way out of being involved in such local events, and he had found himself on the organising committee.

‘So good of you to give up your time,' said John Collington.

‘I'm enjoying it,' said Philip, which, to his surprise, was true. ‘I've never been involved with re-enactments before and the house in question has a really interesting history of its own. In fact, please don't mention it to anyone, but we're hoping to feature it in my new series, all being well.'

Yes, it was pleasant to sit and chat with the Collingtons. It was silly of him to have avoided them for the last few weeks.

Maggie walked with him to the door. Her movements seemed rather stiff, but she was as cheerful as ever.

‘I'm so glad you're back before the weekend,' she said in a lowered voice. ‘You haven't forgotten it's the party for John's sixtieth? I know Rachel said you might not be able to come if you were away, but now you're home we'd love to see you.'

Philip smiled and nodded his acceptance. Here was a definite date for seeing Rachel again.

Chapter Fifteen

The morning of John's party dawned bright and clear. It wasn't his actual birthday until the Sunday, but it had been decided to have the party on the Saturday. Maggie went over all the arrangements in her head as she waited for John to bring up her morning cup of tea. He had got into this habit when she hadn't been well and it was a rather nice routine.

The few minutes' solitude gave her a chance to check off everything in her mind. The food had been prepared gradually over the weeks and was now defrosting on the pantry shelves. Rachel had arranged the hire of glasses and plates. Anthony would go with her to collect drinks that morning. Balloons would be put up at the last minute, if they could manage to get John out of the way as planned.

If the weather stayed like this, it was going to be fantastic.

John brought up tea on a tray. She was pleased to see he had made a cup for himself, which meant he wasn't going straight out to work.

‘Lovely morning,' he said, nodding at the high white clouds in the sky.

‘I do hope it stays like this,' said Maggie and then, when he gave her a puzzled look, wished she hadn't.

He sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘Maggie, my dear, do you mind if I ask you something?'

‘No-o,' said Maggie doubtfully. He suspected something, she was sure of it.

‘Are you going to tell me what's going on?'

‘Goodness, whatever do you mean?'

‘Now, Mags, you know you were never any good at keeping a secret. And there have been just a few too many whispers and knowing looks between you and the children.'

Maggie was sure her face must have fallen. ‘I don't know what you're talking about,' she said, but she knew she would never carry it off now.

He patted her hand, smiling across at her affectionately. ‘The final clue was the amount of food I've just spotted in the pantry. Enough to feed the five thousand, I would have said.'

‘You weren't supposed to look in the pantry!' Maggie protested. ‘You never go in there.'

‘I wanted to bring you some biscuits up, as a Saturday treat,' he said, indicating the plate on the tray. ‘And I've had my suspicions for a while. It's a party for my sixtieth, isn't it?'

Maggie sighed. She had been enjoying the excitement of the secret preparations. ‘Yes. It was Anthony's idea, actually. You don't mind, do you? We wanted to make it a special time for you.'

‘Of course I don't mind! I'm delighted. No need to tell the children I know, but if you just explain the arrangements to me I'll make sure all the chores are done in time. Then I can get out of your way at the appropriate moment.'

‘Yes, that might make things easier,' said Maggie, cheering up again. It had always been doubtful that John would have been persuaded he had to go into Boroughbie for the papers at just the time they wanted. ‘Everyone's coming, you know. It's going to be such fun.'

‘I think so too. I wasn't looking forward to being sixty, but if it means my family have arranged something like this for me, it can't be a bad thing.'

Anthony waited impatiently for Gemma and her father to arrive. He hadn't seen her since she went away a fortnight ago. She had texted him to say her father had agreed to come to the party, all being well, but when he questioned his mother she said there had been no acceptance of the invitation, so he was left on tenterhooks.

The day had started dry but windy and Rachel and their mother were fussing over the best way to pin down tablecloths and the dangers of using plastic cups in this weather. He really didn't see that any of these things were important. His dad had been persuaded surprisingly easily to go and collect the Saturday papers and do one or two other errands. The decorations were up and the first visitors had begun to appear.

But where was Gemma?

She still hadn't arrived when the word came that his father's car was approaching. The visitors were crowded into the conservatory, although how his father wasn't going to suspect something with the number of vehicles out the front he didn't know. Still, he went along with it, holding the doors closed until Rachel gave the signal and then throwing them open to a great bang of party poppers, clapping, and laughter.

His father looked momentarily nonplussed, his cheerful face suffused with colour as he saw all the people.

‘Happy Birthday, John,' shouted someone from the back.

‘Happy Sixtieth!' shouted someone else.

‘I bet you didn't expect to see us here,' said his father's sister-in-law, coming forward to hug him.

His father shook his head, slowly, and met his mother's eyes when he said, ‘No, I really didn't. Some of you have travelled miles. I'm quite overcome.'

His wife hustled him forward as he seemed, for once, to have forgotten his easy social skills. ‘Here, Rachel has a glass for you, and then you can come and say hello to everyone.'

The party began in earnest then, with only the one or two late arrivals drifting in. Anthony thought he was going to get a crick in his neck, he swung round so often to see who was coming through the door. And then, suddenly, Gemma and her father were there. They hadn't come to the front door or he would have heard the bell. They must have heard all the noise from the garden and made their way around the side of the house. Maggie spotted them and immediately made to draw them forward, apparently delighted to see them.

She wasn't the only one. Anthony was at Gemma's side in an instant. ‘I'll get drinks,' he said. ‘What would you like?'

It was only when Anthony returned with the drinks and had the chance to look more closely at Gemma that he realised all was not well. He found it hard to judge Freddy Smith's expression, as he was always so grim, but Gemma looked ready to cry.

This wasn't right. Anthony said bracingly, ‘How are you getting on at university? Freshers' week go OK?' He thought it best that her father didn't know they'd been exchanging text messages.

‘Yes, thank you. It was good.'

‘Too much drinking and making fools of themselves,' said her father sourly, frowning at his daughter. ‘I hope you didn't have any part in that.'

‘No Dad. I said. It was just the fun things.'

‘Hmm.' Her father looked around at the groups of happy chattering people. His expression made it all too clear that he didn't approve of such frivolity.

Anthony wondered how on earth Gemma had persuaded her father to come here, and how long they were likely to stay. Not very, from the way the man was already looking at his watch.

‘I'm worried about that new bull. I really need to get back.'

‘Dad, you said you'd stay for a bit.' Gemma bit her lip.

Anthony flashed her a smile, to show he was on her side, and it seemed to cheer her a little. She smiled briefly back and then took a deep breath and touched her father on the arm.

‘Dad, I've been thinking.'

‘Hmm?'

‘You know how busy you are around the farm, now I'm not home to help.'

‘I don't begrudge you going. I'm not one to make my children stay home and run their business for them.'

‘No, I know that, Dad. But I was thinking, it would be useful for you to have a hand every now and then, wouldn't it? And Anthony here is living nearby and I wondered if he might be willing to help out …?'