Second Time Around (15 page)

Read Second Time Around Online

Authors: Marcia Willett

BOOK: Second Time Around
13.72Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘Tessa's special,' said Giles simply.
Kate stared at him, her irritation evaporating. ‘Oh, darling,' she said. ‘I know. At least, I think you could say we suspected. Oh hell! Can't you see that's why we want you to phone her?'
Suppressing a desire to howl with frustration she fetched a bottle
of wine and the corkscrew and put them down on the table in front of David.
‘Sorry,' said Giles miserably. ‘Only it means a lot and I'm afraid of cocking it up. I know she's very independent and all those things and I seem to be a bit old-fashioned where women are concerned and they don't care for it much … And then there's Sebastian.'
David and Kate exchanged a glance and David pushed a glass of wine across the table towards Giles where he stood, leaning against the dresser, hands now thrust deep in his trouser pockets.
‘Giles,' said Kate carefully, ‘please try to be sensible about this. It's one thing being honourable and another being stupid.' David winced and looked quickly at Giles, who was staring into his wine glass. ‘Tessa has had a schoolgirl crush on Sebastian for years and, because she rarely gets the opportunity to meet any other young men, she hasn't grown out of it. From what I've read between the lines he treats her like a little sister and has never given her a serious thought. If you're going to let that stand in your way then you're a twit. For heaven's sake, give her the chance to choose for herself.'
Giles stood his glass on the table and looked at the telephone. ‘Got an idea.' David smiled at him. ‘Why not use the extension in my study? More private.'
‘I'll do that.' Giles picked up the address book, nodded at them and disappeared into the hall.
‘And now I shan't hear what he says,' groaned Kate. ‘I shan't be able to spur him on if he needs it. He looked just like he used to when I left him at school. It's ridiculous.'
David reached a hand across the table to her. ‘As you said, my darling, he's thirty years old. Got to let go sometime.'
‘I've been letting Giles go since he was eight and he went off to prep school,' said Kate wretchedly. ‘I've hardly seen him for the last twenty-two years. Where did I go wrong? Perhaps I wasn't motherly enough.'
‘I notice he still telephones when he's got a problem,' said David.
‘I think he looks upon you more as a friend than a mother. Nothing wrong with that. Stop fretting. This is the first time I've seen Giles like this in the four years that I've known him. It's love, that's what it is, poor chap.'
‘He's been in love before.' Kate swallowed some wine. ‘It was a girl he was at university with. Went on for years. Giles is very faithful and loyal and had great difficulty when he knew that it was over for him but that she was still keen. It was hell! For all of us!'
David began to laugh. ‘Then why are you so hellbent in putting us all through it again?'
‘she!' said Kate. ‘He's coming …'
Giles came in, looking self-conscious. He paused, grinning at their expectant faces and then punched the air with both fists.
‘No problem,' he said. ‘Sounded very pleased.
She's bringing Charlie Custard and we'll take him for a walk afterwards. '
Kate let out a gasp of relief. ‘Thank God for that! Let joy be unconfined. Stop hogging the bottle, David. I need another drink!'
 
 
TESSA REPLACED THE TELEPHONE receiver and stroked Charlie Custard as he leaned heavily against her leg.
‘That's nice, isn't it, Custard?' she said. ‘We've got a lunch date for tomorrow at the Elephant's Nest. Giles is coming here first. We'll have to go in my car so that you can come too.'
She glanced at her watch and saw that it was nearly lunchtime. As she opened a tin of soup she thought about Giles, remembering how easy he had been to talk to, and how he'd made her feel rather special. If it hadn't been for Sebastian … Tessa switched on the heat under the saucepan and put two slices of bread in the toaster. Charlie Custard watched hopefully but Tessa was deep in thought, remembering her visit to the Andersons a few weekends before. It was Commander and Mrs Anderson's thirtieth wedding anniversary and Tessa had been invited to the party. It was lovely to see the twins and Rachel, who was now a hard-working lawyer in the City, and even more wonderful to see Sebastian, who was on leave from his ship. When she saw him in the flesh she wondered how on earth she had been so indifferent to his postcard. Not exactly indifferent, she told herself as he hugged her, but simply preoccupied with the house. He was delighted to see her, ready to listen to her news about the cove, and—when he'd had a few drinks—more than ready to kiss her while they were supposed to be looking for extra glasses in the kitchen.
By the time the weekend was drawing to its close, she was convinced that this was the turning point she'd been hoping for; the moment when
he saw her as a woman. Even Rachel noticed a difference in his attitude and teased them about it, embarrassing Tessa who feared it might frighten Sebastian away. He, however, merely laughed and took Tessa out for a walk and then into the pub, where they sat in a corner and he said the things to her that she'd always longed to hear. They arrived back in time for supper and there was no more opportunity then to be alone. Tessa was sharing a bedroom with Rachel, just like the old days, and they talked until the early hours and parted the next morning promising that they wouldn't let it be so long before they met again. Sebastian slept late and Tessa was obliged to leave for Wales before he appeared.
As Tessa poured the soup into a bowl and put the toast on a plate she relived the disappointment she'd felt when he telephoned later in the week to tell her that he wouldn't be driving to Wales to see her after all. His father needed the car, he'd said, and the train journey was too complicated, but when he was next on leave they must spend some time together … They'd talked for a while and Tessa had managed to joke and laugh with him and not let him guess how hurt she was. A naval wife needed to be strong and independent and he must see that she would be able to cope with separations. Since then there had been no word but the weekend remained like a warm glow in her heart.
Now she had lunch with Giles to look forward to as well as her very first Christmas at the cove. It was Isobel who had suggested that she should come across from Mrs Carrington's for Christmas Day. It was barely half an hour's drive and she could bring Romulus and Remus with her. Isobel and Will had tried to persuade her to come on Christmas Eve and stay over for Boxing Day but Tessa was firm. Part of her duties was to look after the house as well as the dogs and she felt that it would be wrong to leave it empty at night. They made no attempt to dissuade her from what she rightly saw as her responsibility but promised that the three of them should have the best Christmas Day ever.
Tessa broke a few crusts into her soup bowl and put it down for
Charlie Custard to lick, remembering how he and she had spent last Christmas together. She thought of the presents Freddie had left under the little tree and how Kate had invited her to lunch. This year she would be spending most of Christmas Day in her own home. She repeated those last three magic words aloud to herself, hardly daring to believe them, and, unable to contain herself, wrapped her arms round the dog's great neck and gave him a hug of pure joy. She wondered what she'd do without all these long-suffering dogs to talk to and cuddle when she felt happy or miserable, and it struck her that she led a very strange life. Even when she went back to London, Cousin Pauline very rarely talked to her; she was much more interested in the latest television soap. She had shown a faint animation when Tessa told her about the cove but it had quickly faded. Refusing to allow a tinge of self-pity to depress her, Tessa pulled on her coat and, taking the rope halter which served as his lead, she and Charlie Custard went out into the raw winter afternoon.
 
ISOBEL, TOO, WAS THINKING about last Christmas. She remembered the humiliating scene with Simon and how he'd told her that he and Sally were going to the Lakes together. She had come rushing back to Mathilda and they had planned their trip to Oxford together. Isobel shook her head and swallowed hard. Only a year ago … and now Mathilda was dead; even then she must have been dying. The bitter thing—the thing she could not come to terms with—was that Mathilda had not confided in her. Isobel had believed that they were friends and yet Mathilda had kept her illness a secret and had gone to her death as she had lived—alone. No matter what other people might say or think Isobel was convinced that Mathilda had taken the boat out that night intending to take her own life. She remembered quite clearly their conversation on euthanasia and Mathilda's words:
‘If he is terminally ill and in his right mind I think that he should have as much right to choose the manner of his death just as he has chosen the manner in which he has lived.'
She knew now that Mathilda had consulted her doctor and a few nights later had taken the boat out. How had she seen her end? Had she switched off the engine and let the boat be washed on to the rocks? If so, how would she have known that she would die? Isobel suspected that Mathilda had set out intending to slip over the side when she was too far out to be able to swim back. She guessed, too, that Mathilda had been unable to carry out the plan when the time came.
‘This life is all we know,'
she had said.
‘It is the human condition to cling to what we know.'
It was Isobel's private nightmare that, when Mathilda's courage had failed, the engine had failed with it and she had been swept helplessly to her death. Over and over she imagined her terror and her loneliness and blamed herself that Mathilda had been unable to confide in her. Worse, she blamed herself because she had not noticed that Mathilda was ill; that she had never suspected that she was dying. She had been too absorbed in her own problems and she writhed when she remembered her words to Mathilda; ‘Go and drown yourself and see if I care!'
James was quite right in suspecting that Isobel couldn't forgive Mathilda for leaving her but she couldn't forgive herself either for what she saw as her own failure. Because of her selfishness Mathilda had been denied the solace of unburdening herself or sharing her fear. If she had been able to talk to Isobel openly and frankly she might not have felt desperate enough to contemplate suicide.
On her worst days, Isobel saw herself as a complete failure; she had failed in her marriage to Simon, she had failed her daughter and, finally, she had failed Mathilda. Guilt lived and flourished in her like a malignant disease and, when it became too painful to bear, she let herself out of the cottage and went to find Will …
This morning he was clearing out the room across the passage from the kitchen; the room which had once been the dining room. She leaned in the doorway watching him and feeling comforted merely by the sight of him in his baggy cords and his shapeless old Guernsey.
‘So what's all this in aid of?'
Will beamed at her, grey hair on end, flushed with exertion. He pulled a pile of boxes nearer to the door and sat down on the edge of a half-full tea-chest, wiping his brow with a large red handkerchief. Already he loved her so much that he could sense her deep unhappiness but he did not know yet how he could help her.
‘It occurred to me that we would need an extra bedroom,' he told her. ‘It could just be that the three of us might be here together, d'you see? It would be best if the two girls had the bedrooms. This will do very nicely for me if I can get the rubbish out and give it a lick of paint.'
‘You're certain then that you'll be able to stay here?'
‘Oh, I think so. Bea has agreed to give us time to raise the money and my flat is up for sale. I've got a buyer.' Will had returned to Geneva for a few days to sort out his affairs and was going back again after the New Year to tie up loose ends. ‘Can't give up now.'
‘I was thinking.' Isobel wrapped her arms around her body; it was chilly in this unused room. ‘If I were to vacate the cottage you could sell it. That would give you what you need, wouldn't it?'
‘Absolute nonsense.' Will stood up and began to root in the box.
‘You belong here as much as we do. More. You knew Mathilda. You're our link with her. Wouldn't want strangers in the cottage.'
Isobel blinked back her tears and tried to smile, accepting his gesture of friendship. ‘Looks like you've got your work cut out. Want some help?'
‘Now you're talking.' Will hid his relief—he dreaded the idea of Isobel leaving the cove—and straightened up again. ‘I thought that I could pack all this away somewhere. In the garage, perhaps. There's acres of papers and notebooks and all sorts of odds and ends. If we could store it away for the time being, we could have a chance to look at it later when the others are here and I could get on with decorating this room.'
‘Won't you mind being down here?' Isobel glanced round the room. ‘It looks damp to me.'
‘I shall rather like it. Get some heating into it and regular airing and it'll be fine. And I shall have my freedom, d'you see? I'm a bit of a nocturnal animal and when young Tessa is here I'm afraid that I shall disturb her if I go wandering about in the middle of the night. It'll be handy being just across from the kitchen.'
Isobel remembered how she and Mathilda had stayed up late on stormy nights and how comforting it had been to tuck up with a hot-water bottle, knowing that Mathilda was pottering about or in the next bedroom. She wondered if Tessa felt the same about Will.
‘You're very like Mathilda,' she said. ‘It'll be nice for Tessa to have company. She must get so lonely, all on her own in strange people's houses with only dogs for company.' She watched him for a moment and then shook herself mentally. ‘Look, I'll find the key and get the boathouse opened up. It would be better than the garage. It's got a huge loft room. We can pile all this stuff in and you can start painting.'
After her second trip across to the boathouse she went into the kitchen to push the kettle on to the hotplate. Presently Will came to join her. He had just finished washing his hands when the telephone rang. He dried his hands quickly and picked up the receiver. ‘Rainbird.' Isobel sipped her coffee, her eyes on his face but mentally reviewing how much more was to be done in preparation for Christmas, now less than two weeks away. ‘Of course. Of course you must come,' he said. ‘We shall be delighted to see you.' Isobel came out of her reverie and looked at him with renewed interest. He grimaced at her. ‘Come to Totnes,' he said, ‘not Plymouth. That's right. Let us know and we'll be able to fetch you. No trouble at all. The more the merrier. Yes, we'll all be here. Look forward to hearing from you.'
‘Who was that?' asked Isobel curiously as he replaced the receiver.
‘It was Bea.' Will looked thoughtful. ‘It seems that she'd like to spend Christmas in the cove.' He smiled at Isobel's amazed expression. ‘Looks like it's going to be a real family Christmas.' He gulped at his coffee. ‘I'd better get on. We're going to need that extra room sooner than we thought.'
‘She could come over with me,' offered Isobel. ‘I've got a spare room.
Will stood, brooding. ‘No.' He shook his head. ‘I think the three of us must make shift together. Don't want anyone to think they don't belong in the house, d'you see? If Tessa or Bea suggest it that's different but to begin with we must share equally.'
‘Well, it's there if anyone wants it.' Isobel hesitated. ‘Will, I'm still not happy about living rent-free'
‘Look,' Will began to pat his pockets for his pipe, ‘we talked that over with James. It was how it was arranged with Mathilda and until the estate is finally sorted out that's how it stays.'
‘But I looked after Mathilda,' cried Isobel. ‘Well.' Her face changed. ‘I tried to.'
Will saw the bitter twist to her mouth but he held his tongue. Now was not the time to find out what was eating away at Isobel's peace of mind.
‘And you're looking after us,' he said. ‘You clean the house up after me and cook delicious meals. And you've worked like a slave getting things ready for Christmas. No more arguments. Please.'
‘OK.' Isobel gave in gratefully. ‘Let's make a start on your bedroom. You must be psychic, that's all I can say.'
‘It has been said of me,' said Will modestly, hoping to make her smile, ‘that I can see further through a brick wall than most.'

Other books

Nadie lo ha visto by Mari Jungstedt
The Edge of Lost by Kristina McMorris
On Brunswick Ground by Catherine de Saint Phalle
Amore and Amaretti by Victoria Cosford
The Voice of the Xenolith by Cynthia Pelman
The Bill from My Father by Bernard Cooper, Kyoko Watanabe