The Woman From Paris (17 page)

Phaedra lowered her voice. “I disagree: it’s important that she cries in public so they all know who’s boss.”

Roberta fought against the sudden softening of her resolve. It was easy to see how weaker people were seduced by the girl’s charm. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d heard her wail,” she replied coolly and wandered into the hall.

As she made for the stairs she noticed what must surely be Phaedra’s stripy canvas handbag left carelessly on the sofa. She looked about, like a thief with an opportunity to steal. She was alone. It would take only a moment to rifle through it. Struck by the intense desire to expose her, Roberta sat on the sofa, placed Amber on her
knee, and thrust her hand into the bag. She rummaged about a set of keys, diary, lipstick, papers, sweet wrapper, and goodness knows what else until her fingers felt the hard surface of an iPhone. Hastily she pulled it out and pressed the button at the bottom. The light went on, and Roberta gasped. There, to her delight, one clear sentence shone out: Missed call: Julius Beecher. Hearing voices from the drawing room, she hurriedly slipped it back in the bag and set off up the stairs. It wasn’t proof, but it was a lead. Julius Beecher and Phaedra were up to no good together, and Roberta was determined to find out what.

A moment later David escorted Phaedra into the dining room, where roast beef and Yorkshire pudding were waiting on the sideboard. “You need to gather your strength if you’re to be summoned,” he said mischievously.

Phaedra laughed. “Don’t you think you’re being a little unkind? Roberta’s right. She’s just lost her son. She might not cry in public, but she’d be superhuman if she wasn’t howling inside.”

He frowned at her. “I’ve never thought—”

“Sometimes people are aggressive to hide their true feelings, not only from others but from themselves. I’ll bet she sweeps it all under the carpet so she doesn’t have to suffer. The trouble is, she suffers all the more because she holds it all in.”

David pulled a face. “I hate to think of Roberta being right about anything.”

“You don’t like her, do you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“The atmosphere in this house when you’re all together is shocking.”

“She rubs me up the wrong way.”

“Probably because she thinks no one ever listens to her.”

“We would, if what she said was sensible.”

“Don’t make her feel like an outsider.” She sat down and draped her napkin over her knees. “I tell you what, the next time you have the urge to say something squashing, do the opposite. I find that usually works.”

He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down. “You mean, say something nice?”

“Yes, let’s see what happens.”

“You’re asking a great deal of me, Phaedra.”

“To whom much is given, much is expected.”

“I’ll give it a go,” he said. “But only for you.” Her smile filled his heart with effervescence.

“Thank you.”

Roberta returned with the baby monitor and reported that Margaret was still asleep.

“Is she snoring?” Tom asked.

Roberta shook her head impatiently. “She’s as quiet as a mouse.”

“That’s a contradiction in terms,” Tom laughed.

Roberta bent down to plug the monitor into the wall and gave a long-suffering sigh. “God, I do hate it when Kathy has the weekend off.”

“Is Kathy your nanny?” Phaedra asked.

“Yes, I don’t know how I manage without her.”

“Looks like you manage very well from where I’m sitting.”

“It’s full-on, not a moment to myself.”

“She’s a very good little girl,” said Phaedra.

“That’s true,” Roberta agreed. “She rarely cries.”

“She knows there’s no point because her mother will just leave her,” said Tom.

“Which is exactly what a mother should do,” David interjected, winking at Phaedra.

“How do
you
know so much about child care all of a sudden?” Roberta replied, taking a seat at the table.

“I don’t, but I assume you’re doing the right thing. Amber’s a happy child. That speaks volumes,” David continued.

Roberta poured herself a glass of water. “Well, I don’t know whether or not I’m doing the right thing, but I can safely say I do my best.”

“Your best is good enough,” David added cheerfully.

“Are you mocking me, David?”

“No.” He shrugged innocently.

David’s enthusiasm made Roberta feel uneasy, so she changed the subject. “What do you think of Fairfield, Phaedra?” she asked.

“It’s an adorable town. Antoinette and I went to the church and then wandered around the shops.”

“You’ve yet to see the farm,” said David.

“I don’t think she’d want to see the farm,” Roberta argued. “I can’t believe a girl like Phaedra would be interested in tractors and grain barns.”

“A girl like me?” Phaedra repeated. “What
is
a girl like me?”

“Well, you just don’t look like the type, in those urban boots and tights.”

“Ah, the country type, you mean?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“Perhaps I should have worn a tweed suit.”

“I wouldn’t say you have to go that far.” Roberta sniffed. “But dressed like that you’ll scare the pheasants.”

“Are
you
a country type?”

“No.” Roberta laughed as if the idea was preposterous. “I’m a city girl.”

“Then you’re judging me by your own standards. Which is fine; most people are quick to assume everyone else is like them. But I must correct you, I love the country and am happier here than in any town or city. I’d love to be shown around the farm.” She turned to David. “I absolutely insist that you take me this afternoon.”

“If you insist, I can’t refuse you,” he replied. Then, remembering the deal he had made with Phaedra, he added, “Roberta, you might not consider yourself a country girl, because you’re very sophisticated and urbane, but you adapt very well. Never a piece of clothing out of place, always perfectly pitched.”

“David, I feel you’re making fun of me,” Roberta said tightly.

“Not at all. I’m speaking the truth. You’re one of those people who look the part wherever they are. Don’t you agree?”

“I take trouble, certainly.”

“There, you see? I’m not making fun of you. Josh is lucky to have
a wife he can take anywhere and know she won’t let him down. Appearances are important to Josh.”

“What’s that about me?” Joshua cut in.

“I’m just saying you’re lucky to be married to Roberta.” Tom suppressed a chortle, Antoinette looked baffled, Rosamunde watched Roberta’s mouth twist into a small smile. Phaedra was pleased to see that David didn’t flinch.

“You’re right,” said Joshua. “I
am
lucky to have her.”

Roberta looked embarrassed. “Thank you, Josh. That’s very sweet. Now let’s talk about something else; I’m not used to getting so much positive attention! I could get used to it and then demand it all the time.” The whole table laughed, and for once, Roberta laughed with them.

After lunch Antoinette went upstairs to check on her mother-in-law. She tiptoed to the door and opened it a crack. It was dark, and there was no noise coming from within. She peered inside, but Margaret was facing the other way so she couldn’t see whether or not she was breathing. For a dreadful moment she feared she might be dead. Quietly, she trod across the carpet and around the bed. Margaret lay on her side with her eyes closed, but Antoinette could tell from the rhythmic expansion of her chest that she was breathing.

She was about to leave the room when the old woman woke up. “Is that you, George?”

Antoinette’s heart buckled. “Margaret, it’s me, Antoinette,” she said, returning to the bedside.

“I thought you were George.”

“No, I’m sorry. Just me.”

“George is dead, isn’t he? I quite forgot.”

“I do that, too. I wake up and think that everything is as it should be. Then, as I slowly come to my senses, I realize that nothing is right anymore and never will be.”

“But Phaedra is here?”

“Yes, she’s downstairs.”

“Bring her to me. I want to meet her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. I’m the only one in the family who hasn’t met her, and by rights,
I
should have been the first.”

Antoinette left the room, relieved not to be needed. Margaret had seemed so benign while she slept that Antoinette had almost felt sorry for her. But the old dragon was as fierce as ever when awake. Poor Phaedra, she hoped David had prepared her.

“She’s herself again,” said Antoinette, entering the drawing room.

“I’m so relieved,” Rosamunde replied. “I was very worried. It really was unlike her to be so quiet.”

“Well, she’s not quiet now, and you might regret being relieved,” Antoinette added. “Phaedra, she wants to see you.”

“Sure.” Phaedra got up good-naturedly.

“Into the witch’s cavern,” said Tom.

“Don’t listen to Tom, Phaedra. She’s a little brisk, but her heart is in the right place,” said Roberta.

“I’m not worried. Of course she should want to meet me. I’m very happy, actually.”

“Shouldn’t I go with her?” David asked his mother.

“She didn’t demand your presence as well,” Antoinette replied.

“What are you, her shadow?” asked Tom.

“I feel responsible,” David replied. “It was I who convinced Phaedra to come and stay. I’ll feel very bad if she gets a mauling from Grandma.”

“Why would she?” Roberta asked.

“You’re right, why would she?” David replied. “You and she get on extremely well, there’s no reason Phaedra won’t, too.” He smiled at Roberta, who gazed back suspiciously.

“She’s really very sweet underneath,” Roberta added.

“I don’t doubt it,” said David. “None of us has ever tried to look underneath.”

“Now would be a good time to start. She needs her family more than ever.”

David listened as Phaedra had told him to do, and to his surprise he found that on this occasion, at least, Roberta did make sense.

Phaedra followed Antoinette up the stairs. She gazed at the wall
where the Frampton suite of sapphires and diamonds shone out from its oily canvas. “You have a beautiful house,” she said.

“When I married George, we lived in the dower house where Margaret lives now. It’s a very pretty Queen Anne house, light and airy, with big windows and high ceilings. There are none of these dusty old portraits and knickknacks collected over generations. I have to admit that I preferred living there. I felt it belonged to me. I don’t feel this house belongs to me. I’m the caretaker, making sure that all these exquisite things last for future generations of Framptons. When we moved in, I wasn’t allowed to change anything. I would have loved to change the dining room and redecorate the drawing room. The only room in the house that I redecorated was our bedroom. I think it’s important to make a house your home. You can’t live in a museum. But George was aware of his heritage and insisted that it remain the same. Now he’s gone I could do whatever I like with it, but I won’t. George wouldn’t like it.” She laughed sadly. “I’ll keep it like this to honor him.”

“You have to think of yourself, Antoinette.”

“I can’t change the habit of a lifetime.”

“You can change a habit any time you want.” Phaedra smiled at her. “You only have to overcome your fears, and that’s not really very hard if you put your mind to it.”

“I’ve never thought . . .”

“You lived for George, but now that he’s no longer here, you have to live for yourself. You have to do all the things you wanted to do when you were married, but couldn’t because you were being a good wife and mother. But you’re neither. You’re
you
. This is the perfect time to do something for your own selfish pleasure; otherwise, you’ll get lost in memories and duty and you might never find yourself again.”

“I’m not sure Margaret would be happy for me to change the place.”

“Have you ever asked her?”

“No. But she didn’t change a single thing when she lived here.”

“But it’s
your
place and
you
have to live in it. I think George will
think very differently now he’s in spirit. Things that seemed so terribly important while he was down here will no longer hold any importance at all, because material things only have value in our material world. I’m sure he’ll be delighted with whatever you choose to do, so long as it makes you happy and doesn’t hurt anyone.”

“You’re very sure he’s in . . . in
spirit
.” That word felt strange to Antoinette.

“Oh, I
know
he is.” There was no quiver of doubt in Phaedra’s voice.

Antoinette stopped just outside Margaret’s bedroom door and sighed. “I wish I had your conviction.”

“It’ll come if you want it to. Just focus on something beautiful, like a flower or the stars at night, and you’ll feel a sense of something greater than yourself.”

“Really? Is it that easy?”

Phaedra nodded. “It really is.” She was so convincing, Antoinette found herself ready to try.

11

P
haedra knocked on the door. “Come in,” Margaret called out. Antoinette hesitated as Phaedra entered and closed the door behind her. She felt a wave of apprehension, as if by allowing Phaedra into Margaret’s clutches she might lose her. Antoinette stood a moment, listening through the wood, but the voices were so low she heard nothing but the thumping of her own fretful heart.

Margaret had turned on the bedside lamp, but the curtains were still closed. “Open them, will you? Then I can get a good look at you,” Margaret demanded, propping herself up with pillows. Phaedra did as she was told. The light spilled into the room, transmuting the heavy atmosphere into sunshine. She turned to the old woman in the bed. Margaret Frampton was round and ruffled like a fat hen on her nest. Grief pulled her mouth down at the corners and her pale-gray eyes were glassy and bloodshot. Phaedra was struck by an unexpected wave of compassion, for it was plain to see that George’s mother was a hard knot of unhappiness.

Margaret’s formidable gaze scrutinized her, but Phaedra didn’t avert her eyes. This small act of defiance won Margaret’s admiration, for she was used to people shrinking in her presence. “Ah, now
that
you have inherited from me,” she said triumphantly. “Come closer.” She patted the bed. Phaedra sat down. “Yes, I was a beauty in my day, just like you. It’s all in the eyes, you know. You have lovely eyes.”