The Decision (118 page)

‘She’s what! My God. I’ll be in in one minute. How – how exciting. A baby, here at Summercourt – first one since – since me. Gosh. Where’s Matt? Louise, Louise—’

‘Ah, there you are at last. What have you been doing, woman? Come along, here’s Mrs Frost, she’s doing wonderfully well, but she could do with a bit of gas and air now, and then you can examine her, see how she’s getting on. Got all the gear have you, sort her out a bit. Contractions every four minutes, getting nice and strong, I’d say a couple more hours and baby’ll be here.’

A couple more hours. Of this? Surely not, surely, surely not. Still – it was going to be less than twenty-four, obviously. And it did hurt, it hurt like hell, but it was – all right. She was just about coping. She hadn’t screamed or anything, which she’d been worrying about, right in the middle of the gymkhana – it was actually rather lovely here, in this beautiful room, and fancy Eliza being born here, and her mother coming in and out, and that nice girl Heather, helping with her breathing – she was going to be all right. She was worried about Mark, he looked as if he was going to faint, probably best if he went out, only it was nice to have him there – oh, shit, shit, here came another one …

‘Matt, Matt, there you are, Scarlett’s having her baby.’

‘Scarlett’s what?’

‘She’s having her baby.’

‘What, here?’

‘Yes. It all happened very fast, and she’s up in Mummy’s room, I was born there, you know, so rather lovely, and no, I don’t think you should go and see her, she’s quite far on apparently, and the doctor’s there and the midwife, and—’

‘Toby, you can’t go yet. Scarlett’s having her baby. It’s really exciting. Please, please stay—’

‘Louise, there you are. Look – we can’t go yet. Apparently my sister’s having her baby. Here, in the house. The doctor’s here and a midwife, so she’s all right. I hope. What on earth would Mum say … Christ, I need a drink.’

‘Right, one more push, that’s right, good girl, good girl. Well done. Here we are – and it’s a – it’s a girl, a lovely little girl. Oh, you have done well. There you are, my lovely, there she is – whoops, and there goes the daddy, head between your knees, sir, that’s right. Your wife’s done so well, now you look at your daughter, isn’t she lovely?’

‘She’s beautiful,’ said Mark, looking at his beloved wife, holding her baby, their baby, so safely and sweetly delivered, after all his fears, ‘simply beautiful, yes.’

And, ‘Yes,’ said Scarlett, smiling tenderly down, at the baby’s squashed, grimacing, little old man’s face, ‘yes, she is absolutely beautiful.’

‘And – any ideas what you’re going to call her?’

‘Oh,’ said Mark, ‘that’s easy. She’s called Larissa.’

‘That’s unusual.’

‘Yes, it is. It’s Greek. It’s the name of a very beautiful Grecian lady. Without whom, our Larissa would not be here.’

‘Matt, come in, come in, come and say hello to your niece. Isn’t she lovely?’

‘She is beautiful,’ said Matt, smiling down at the tiny Larissa. ‘Yes. Well done, Scarlett. We’re all so proud of you.’

‘Oh – it was fine. Not nearly as bad as I feared. I think – I really think being here, in this lovely house of yours, helped. It’s so peaceful, such a special place, Matt, and somehow, being with the family, Sarah’s so lovely, so calm, she made me feel safe.’

‘Yes,’ said Matt, ‘yes, she is very – nice.’

‘I’m going to stay a few days, until I’m strong enough to go home. She’s so excited, me having the baby where she had Eliza. And of course Emmie is just over the moon. She says Mouse is Larissa’s uncle.’

‘Indeed?’ said Matt. ‘That’s a first. Oh – Mark. Congratulations. Well done. I hear you were magnificent.’

‘Well, I managed not to faint until it was all right to,’ said Mark modestly. ‘And Scarlett was so marvellously brave. I feel I should thank you, for hosting the baby’s birth …’

‘Oh – don’t mention it,’ said Matt. And grinned.

They were all eating Sarah’s famous cottage pie round the huge kitchen table.

‘Lovely to have the house so full,’ she said happily.

‘This is splendid pie, my dear,’ said Archie Northcott. ‘Christine was never much of a cook.’

‘Pa! That’s so disloyal.’

‘Nonsense. She was the first to admit it. How’s your cooking, Mariella?’

‘It’s marvellous,’ said Jeremy, ‘especially her tiramisu. We always enjoy that.’

‘You should come down with the young people one weekend, Sarah,’ said Archie. ‘Not sure you’ve ever seen the house. Very fine, Jacobean, you know.’

‘Yes, I do. That would be lovely. Thank you, Mr Connell – Alan,’ said Sarah, ‘another helping of pie?’

‘I won’t say no. Thank you. Really excellent. Compliments to the chef. And may I say again, it’s extemely good of you to put us up. So nice to be part of such a delightful gathering, isn’t it, Heather?’

‘Yes, Alan, it is.’

‘We could hardly send you on such a long journey late at night, after all Heather did to help Scarlett,’ said Sarah.

‘And I won’t say no to another beer,’ he said to Matt, ‘since you offered.’

‘Of course. Then we must go. I’ll just go and say goodbye to Scarlett. You coming, Louise?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Eliza, ‘make sure she’s got everything she needs.’

They went up; Scarlett was drifiting in and out of sleep, the baby lying on her breast, Mark sitting rather gingerly on the edge of the bed, gazing at them both. It was a completely charming picture.

‘Well – bye, sis. Well done again. Let me give you a kiss. Take care of her, Mark.’

‘I will. See you back in London.’

Matt bent over the bed to kiss Scarlett; Eliza suddenly looked at Louise; she was staring at Matt, with a look of naked yearning on her face, her eyes bright with tears. She saw Eliza looking at her and flushed.

‘I’ll just – just go to the bathroom,’ she said.

Eliza followed her out.

‘Are you OK?’ she said.

‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine.’

A tear rolled slowly down one cheek; she brushed it impatiently away.

‘Louise—’

‘No, don’t say it. He doesn’t know, he’ll never know, he’s so – so impossibly emotionally stunted – and so – wrapped up in himself. Oh, sorry, Eliza, I sometimes forget—’

‘Louise, you’re right. I should know. But he needs someone. And if anyone could put up with him, you could. You know him better than any of us. How you stuck him all those years, I’ll never know.’

‘Well – you did pretty well.’

‘No, I didn’t. I was crap. A disastrous wife for him. He’s much better off without me.’ There was a silence; then she said, ‘Louise, you should tell him. Because he’ll never see it for himself, never, you’re so right. Go on, what have you got to lose?’

‘Him,’ said Louise. ‘At least at the moment I have him as a friend. Not that I’m sure that’s exactly a good thing. He’s so bloody bad-tempered, always furious about things—’

‘Yes, but you’re so good for him, you deal with him, without getting cross back. That was my problem. We – oh, hell, that was the phone. Who on earth can that be? I’d better get it. Might be Sandra again. Matt, don’t go without saying goodbye. It’s been such a lovely day, thank you so, so much for all you’ve done. I’m – I’m sorry about the orangery. And the beer tent.’

He shrugged. ‘It’s OK.’

‘No, no, it wasn’t.’

She came back into the kitchen, having taken the call.

‘Matt – that was a man who said he was ready to make an offer to buy – buy Summercourt. He was told you were here by your mum, she was at the – your house apparently. He said he’d like to speak to you. Would you – would you like to take it in the study?’

Matt looked round the room; everyone was pretending not to be remotely interested. Sarah was suddenly very busy with the coffee; Mariella slipped her hand into Jeremy’s; Charles and the adoring Pattie started piling up plates; Jeremy poured himself a very large glass of wine and another for his father; Anna pushed her glass forward imperiously. Only Emmie was concentrating on him, her small face dark suddenly, her blue eyes alarmed.

‘Daddy?’ she said. ‘That’s not right, is it? You’re not selling Summercourt?’

‘I – Emmie, let’s go and have a talk. Just you and me.’

She slithered off her chair very slowly, walked towards him, as if she was sleepwalking. He held out his hand to her, but she shook her head, as if refusing sweets; he turned and walked out of the room and she followed him into the hall.

‘Emmie, sweetheart, listen, I’m sorry, but I have to sell Summercourt.’

‘Why? You can’t. You can’t.’ The blue eyes had filled with tears.

‘Sweetheart, I have to. Listen—’

‘You can’t. It’s mine and yours and Mummy’s, you promised the judge—’

‘I know, Emmie, but – listen. It’s very, very expensive..

‘You’ve got lots of money. Everyone says so.’

‘Everyone isn’t always right.’

‘Anyway, what would the judge say?’

‘I – asked another judge. And he said I could.’

‘But why? And what about Mouse, where would he go?’

‘I’ve found another house, much nearer London. It’s got a stable, Mouse will be fine.’

‘He won’t, this is his home. And it’s my home too, you can’t sell it, you can’t, I won’t come, I’ll run away, I’ll hate you for ever. You lied to the judge, you must have done. I shall go and find my judge and tell him what you’ve done. You’re horrible, you’ve spoilt today, you’ve spoilt everything—’

‘Emmie—’ It was Eliza’s voice. ‘Darling, listen to me. Daddy has done everything else the judge said, this house is so expensive, and he doesn’t get to spend much time here—’

‘That’s his fault. Not mine.’

‘No, darling, it isn’t. Daddy has to go to work, listen, I’m sure this other house is very nice, he’s told me about it, and Mouse can go there and—’

‘No! No, no, NO. You’re both doing it now, changing things. I hate you both again, more than ever. I love it here, I want to keep it for ever, I want it to be mine when I grow up …’

She was crying now, very hard, her small body shaking, tears streaming down her face. She rubbed her eyes; her hands were filthy and left great streaks of dirt on her cheeks. ‘Please!’ she said. ‘Daddy, please, please, don’t sell this house. I’ll run away and not come back until you keep it. Please, Daddy, I’ll be good, so good.’

Matt stared at her; he had heard that before, many times, in as tear-filled a voice; the pathetic promise that she had made when they told her they were getting a divorce. He went up to her, held out his arms. ‘Emmie—’

‘No, I won’t. I hate you. I’ll hate you forever.’

There was a long silence; Matt looked at Emmie, Eliza looked at Matt, Emmie looked from one to the other of them; then with a huge sigh, Matt said, ‘All right, Emmie. I won’t sell it. You can stay here, you and Mouse.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

Eliza expected her to smile then, to jump into his arms, to kiss him; but she just sighed, a heavy, long sigh, an adult’s sigh, and looked at him very directly.

‘Thank you,’ was all she said. And turned and walked slowly towards the kitchen.

‘Thank you, Matt,’ said Eliza, more shaken by this than the entire scene. ‘Thank you so much. I’m – we’re very grateful.’

‘Oh, it’s all right. Of course I can afford it. I just—’

‘I know. I understand. It must be so hard for you. I swear I didn’t put her up to that.’

‘No, I could tell. And thank you for taking my – my side. Fat lot of good it did me,’ he added with a lopsided grin.

‘And, Matt – I’m so sorry about the orangery again. It was dreadful of me. And, for what it’s worth, I often think about it, about how it brought us together and – well, that night, you know.’

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I know. So do I.’

There was a long silence; then she stepped forward, reached up and kissed his cheek.

‘That a thank you?’ he said.

‘No, no. It’s for old times’ sake.’

‘Well – that’s nice.’

They were in the car now, driving back to London. Matt turned to Louise.

‘Eliza said you wanted to talk to me about something?’

‘Really? I can’t think what.’

‘Yes, she did. And she said it was important.’

‘She had no business to,’ said Louise. She felt angry suddenly. How dare Eliza do that to her? Putting her in an impossible position. ‘There’s nothing important, Matt, I don’t know what she’s on about.’

‘She said it was to do with me.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake. Oh – shit.’ She found she had tears in her eyes.

‘Louise. What on earth is it? Come on, you can tell me, surely.’

‘No, I can’t.’ Her voice was rising. ‘It doesn’t matter. Leave things alone.’

‘OK. Calm down, then, it’s not exactly restful, driving along with you having a nervous breakdown beside me.’

‘I am not having a nervous breakdown. And if I did you wouldn’t care. All you want is for me to be good old Louise, hearing about all your problems and difficulties, the endless list of all the people you don’t like, I’m just a bloody punchball to you, Matt, nothing more.’