The Children's Hour (4 page)

Nest and her brother, Timmie, learn to swim in the rock pool; they paddle there too, with shrimping nets and bright, shiny tin buckets, and share a passion for the wildlife on this rock-bound coast.

‘We'll live here together when we grow up,' he tells her, his cold sandy hand clutching the handle of his bucket, which contains a crab and two minute shrimps.

‘But who will look after us?' The youngest of the family, it is beyond Nest's experience that she might one day do this for herself.

‘Mina will,' he answers confidently. Nine years older than he, Mina at fourteen seems already adult.

‘Yes,' she agrees contentedly. ‘Mina will look after us.'

Stirring restlessly, Nest recalled this prophecy. Mina had, indeed, looked after her – and now she must look after Georgie too. Panic fluttered just below Nest's ribs, her fears returning – bringing memories with them – and she groaned. Sleep would elude her now, and she would become prey to those night-time terrors that left her
exhausted and ill – but there was a tried-and-tested remedy at hand. She hauled herself up against the pillow, switched on the bedside light and reached for Bruce Chatwin's
In Patagonia
.

In her bedroom upstairs, Mina was pottering happily. The dogs, curled ready for sleep in their baskets, watched her as she moved about, their ears cocked as she murmured to them, a quiet monotone – ‘Good dogs, good little persons. There then, settle down now, and we shall have a lovely walk tomorrow, won't we? Who's my baby, then? Who's a good Boyo?' – and then that little exhalation, an explosion of air escaping from her lips in a descending scale, ‘po-po-po', as she paused for a moment to brush her silky white hair.

This room, which had once been her mother's bedroom, was a complete antithesis to Nest's cell. Here, freed briefly from the necessary disciplines of nearly a lifetime of caring first for her mother and then for Nest, Mina allowed her passion for vivid, visual drama full rein and, glad to see her creating something of her own, various members of the family had contributed by bringing her presents: prints, silk cushions, ornaments, even small pieces of furniture. Mina received them with delight and made haste to find homes for them. The walls were crammed with images – Klimt's
The Three Stages of Life
and
The Kiss
next to Paul Colin's
La Revue Nègre
poster – whilst a set of prints depicting what Mina thought of as Jack Vettriano's gangster world hung beside Jackson Pollock's silk-screened
Summer Time
. A
chaise-longue
, draped with silky shawls and loaded with cushions, reposed beneath the window facing a Lombok tallboy, exquisitely painted with exotic birds, which stood against the opposite wall beside a bucket-shaped cane chair.
Odd, fascinating objects jostled on every polished surface: photographs in a variety of pretty frames, a pair of Chinese
cloisonné
vases, a charming set of amusing papier mâché ducks. A puppet, long-limbed, was suspended from a hook, his clever magician's face lit by the gentle light of an elegant brass lamp with a tulip shade made of blue glass.

The room brimmed with colour. A velvet throw covered the deep, high double bed, its jewel colours – amethyst, sapphire and ruby – repeated in the long, heavy curtains, and three long shelves creaked with books, stacked and piled together, old-fashioned, elegant leather jackets residing happily alongside modern, cracked, paper spines. A thick, plain grey carpet was almost completely covered by beautiful, ancient rugs and a high, lacquered screen half-hid the alcove in the far corner.

After the glowing, extravagant display of textures and tints, the starkness of the small alcove was a shock to the unprepared. A simple shelf, containing a computer monitor with a keyboard and a printer, ran the length of the wall, a typist's swivel chair beside it. There was nothing here to distract from the simple, working atmosphere. Mina came around the screen, switched on the computer and sat down, humming beneath her breath. Connected to the world by means of the Internet, she settled happily, still humming, pulling her long fleecy robe more cosily around her knees whilst the screen scrolled and flickered. She typed in her password and waited, watching eagerly, her grey-green eyes focused and intent. She was rewarded at last: ‘You have four unread messages.' The mouse moved busily, covering and clicking. With a sigh of pleasure Mina began to open her mail.

When Lyddie woke, Liam was already up. She could hear him in the bathroom, whistling beneath his breath, as he ran hot water for his shave. Stretching out across the bed, pulling the pillows about her, she lay contentedly – half waking, half dreaming – until a gush of water in the wastepipe and a closing door announced Liam's presence.

‘Not
still
asleep?' He sighed, shaking his head as he dragged on jeans and a sweatshirt. ‘And me thinking that you'd be downstairs getting the coffee on. That poor dog will be crossing his legs, I should imagine.'

‘You've let him out already.
And
had some coffee.' She was unmoved, too comfortable to feel guilty. ‘What's the time?'

‘Ten to eight. Of course, it's all very well for those of us who work at home . . .'

‘Oh, shut up,' she said lazily. ‘You'd hate to work at home. You can't go half an hour without needing to speak to someone.'

‘Just as well in my job,' he answered cheerfully. He bent
to peer at himself in the glass on the small pine chest, whistling again beneath his breath as he dragged a comb through his thick, dark hair.

‘Who's opening up today?' she asked, hands behind her head, watching him appreciatively. ‘Isn't it Joe's turn?'

‘It is, indeed. A nice slow start for us, although I need to go to the bank.' He turned to look at her, catching her glance and smiling to himself. ‘You look very beautiful, lying there.' He bent over her, kissing her lightly, and she put her arms about him, pulling him down, so that he was half kneeling, half lying. ‘And to think,' he murmured in her ear, ‘if it hadn't been for that damn dog of yours, I wouldn't be up at all. And you feeling sexy this morning. Isn't it just my luck?'

She chuckled, releasing him. ‘You don't do too badly. A doting wife and all that adulation from your female customers.' She was learning that a light touch earned approval. ‘Most men would kill for the amount of attention you get.'

‘Ah, there's safety in numbers,' he told her, kneeling back on his heels. ‘And what about you and Joe, if it comes to that, canoodling together in the snug while I'm working like a dog? What do you talk about, the two of you?'

‘Joe's nice.' There was a sweetness in the knowledge that he'd noticed. ‘He's great company. He talks about things that you find boring, like books and films. We discuss the plots and relationships, how they work and why, and he gets right into the characters so that it's like talking about real people. He's compassionate too: he doesn't mock at their weaknesses like you do.'

‘Ah, that's just his way of chatting you up, cunning fellow that he is. You'll need to watch yourself, I can see that. But he doesn't make you laugh the way I can.'

‘No,' she admitted, almost reluctantly, a tiny frown
appearing, ‘no, he doesn't, but then he doesn't flirt like you do, either . . .'

He kissed the rest of the sentence away – until she forgot Joe entirely and the frown was smoothed into delight – and then carefully, gently, detached himself. She clung briefly, though instinct warned her against any show of possessiveness, and sighing regretfully, she pushed back the duvet, running her hands through her black hair.

‘Make me some coffee while I have a shower, would you, Liam? Tell the Bosun I'm on my way.'

‘I'll do that.' He hesitated, watching her thoughtfully. ‘If you were quick we could drive out to Malpas and give him a walk along the river. It's a fantastic morning. Would you like that?'

‘Oh, I'd love it.' Her face was bright with anticipation. ‘And so would he. Are you sure?'

He shrugged. ‘Sure I'm sure. Joe can manage without me for an hour or so. It doesn't get really busy until around midday and we'll be back long before then.'

‘I'll be five minutes,' she promised. ‘Well, ten.'

She fled along the passage to the bathroom and Liam went downstairs, frowning a little, to tell the Bosun about the treat in store for him.

‘It's a glorious morning.' Mina opened the kitchen door to let the dogs out into the freedom of the garden. ‘How about a little trip in the camper?' She stood watching Nogood Boyo quartering the ground below the bird-table whilst Polly Garter sat down on a mossy flagstone to scratch vigorously at an ear. The little yard was full of morning sunshine, glinting on tiny ferns and the round-leaved pennywort growing in the cracks of the cliff, which rose sheer as a wall behind the house.

Nest, eating a Victoria plum from the orchard, turned her chair from the breakfast table and looked out.

‘We could go to the Fuchsia Valley,' suggested Mina, ‘and have some coffee. Or the Hunter's Inn. Or over the moor to Simonsbath.'

‘Simonsbath,' said Nest, dropping the plum stone into her cereal bowl and licking her fingers appreciatively. ‘It's just the morning for a drive across the moor.'

‘We could take the whole day off,' offered Mina. ‘Coffee at Simonsbath, on to Dunster and back over Countisbury. We might as well make the most of it.'

She didn't add ‘before Georgie arrives' but it was implicit in the glance the sisters exchanged.

‘Did you manage to get through to Helena just now?' Nest asked, trying to sound casual, almost indifferent.

‘Yes.' Mina was now peering out of the door. ‘Yes, I did. She was very relieved. And grateful. They're bringing Georgie down on Saturday.'

‘On
Saturday
?' Nest exclaimed. ‘Good grief! They're not wasting any time.'

Mina turned to face her: she looked uncomfortable. ‘It seems they have the opportunity to sell her flat, d'you see? They didn't want to miss the opportunity.'

‘I don't believe it. My goodness, they don't hang about, do they?' Nest began to laugh. ‘I hope Georgie has agreed. They've got it all worked out, by the sound of it.'

‘They need the money from the flat, so Helena says, to fund the nursing home.' Mina, as usual, was trying to be fair. ‘They want her to have the best.'

‘Sure they do!' said Nest drily. ‘And what if we couldn't have had her here?'

Mina shrugged. ‘They'd have thought of something else, I
expect.' She still looked unhappy. ‘I suppose I shouldn't have been quite so available but, after all—'

‘Don't be silly,' said Nest quickly. ‘I'm sure we're doing the right thing. It just irks me that whenever Helena and Rupert dish the dirt they always come up smelling of roses. But that's because I'm a cow. There's nowhere else for her to go, poor old Georgie.'

Mina was silent for a moment. She knew that Helena had also contacted her cousin Jack, their brother Timmie's son, asking if he and his wife, Hannah, could take Georgie in, if necessary. Mina knew that Nest would disapprove of this but she suspected that the truth would out before too long – Jack was very fond of his two aunts and in constant contact – and she decided that Nest might as well know at once.

‘Actually, I had an e-mail from Jack last night saying that Helena had been in touch,' she admitted. ‘If we'd refused she was going to ask him if he and Hannah could cope.'

‘You must be joking?' Nest was incredulous. ‘I should have thought that those two have quite enough on their plates already. They've just started a new term with a houseful of boys to organize, as well as two children of their own. I can just see Georgie in the middle of a boys' preparatory school. The mind boggles.'

‘Jack would have done it,' said Mina, smiling a little.

‘Jack would do anything for anyone. He's Timmie's son. And Hannah, bless her, would go along with it.'

‘He was anxious about us managing. Goodness, I don't know what we'd do without that boy. Or without Hannah, for that matter. And then there's Lyddie, always in touch and worrying about us. How blessed we are.'

‘It's odd, isn't it,' began Nest slowly, ‘that we don't have that same sense of . . .' she hesitated, feeling for the right
word, ‘
satisfaction
about Lyddie and Liam that we have about Jack and Hannah.'

‘Liam's great fun,' said Mina quickly, ‘and terribly attractive . . .'

‘But?' prompted Nest. ‘There has to be a “but” after that.'

‘But it's as if Lyddie feels that she needs to live up to him. Of course, she was knocked sideways when James left her and I sense that she's vulnerable with Liam, as if she's afraid that it might happen again if she's not careful. I feel a kind of wariness on Lyddie's side. There's no. . .' this time it was Mina searching for a word, ‘no
serenity
. Not like there is between Jack and Hannah. I hope she doesn't do something silly.'

‘What sort of thing?' Nest looked anxious.

‘Oh, I'm being an old fool.' Mina tried to shrug away her imaginings. ‘I was just remembering when we went to Truro and had lunch with them at The Place. I thought that she and Joe were very friendly together. She seems quite at ease with him, there's no tension and she can be herself, but I had the feeling that Liam didn't care for it.'

‘Joe and Liam have been friends since school,' said Nest, trying to reassure herself as well as Mina. ‘I can't believe that Joe—'

‘No, of course not. I told you, I'm being foolish. We're both on edge at the prospect of coping with Georgie.'

‘I've had a thought.' Nest was smiling. ‘Why don't we invite Jack down whilst Georgie's here? He'll sort us all out.'