Voices in Summer (32 page)

It was he who broke the silence. 'We look,' he told Laura, 'the very picture of two long-suffering parents, trying to come to terms with the dotty inconsistencies of the younger generation.'

She dissolved into laughter. 'Darling, however hard you try, you'll never sound like a Victorian father.'

'I wanted you to believe I was enraged.'

'You haven't succeeded. You don't mind?'

'Mind? That's the understatement of the year. I'm punch-drunk with body blows, most of them beneath the belt. Ivan and Gabriel.' He cocked an eyebrow. 'What do you think about it?'

'I think,' said Laura, stowing the bottle and the hairbrush, and shutting the suitcase, 'I think they need each other.' She fastened the locks. 'I think they're in love, but I think they like each other too.'

'They don't know each other.'

'Oh, yes, they do. They made friends right away, and they've been together constantly over the last two days. He's a very kind man, and Gabriel, for all that veneer of toughness, needs kindness. Especially now, with the baby on the way.'

'That's the other extraordinary thing. He doesn't give a damn about a baby being on the way. Just makes him more sure than ever that he wants to spend the rest of his life with her.'

'Alec, he loves her.'

At that, he had to smile, shaking his head. 'Laura, my darling, you're a romantic.'

‘I think Gabriel's probably a romantic too, although she doesn't want to admit it.'

He thought this over. 'There's one good thing about all this. If she stays here, I won't need to go hunting for a bigger house.'

'Don't count on it.'

'What does that mean?'

'I'm coming back to Tremenheere when Gabriel has the baby. That's in eight months' time. I may be pregnant myself by then. You never know.'

Alec smiled again, his eyes filled with love. 'That's right,' he said, 'you never know.' He kissed her. 'Now, are you ready? Because they're all hanging around downstairs in the hall, waiting to see us off. My father always used to say, if you're going, go. Let's not keep them waiting.'

She shut the last of the cases, and he picked them up and made for the door, but Laura lingered for a last look around. Lucy's basket was gone, for Gerald had burned it. And Lucy was buried here, at Tremenheere, in the garden. Gerald had offered to have a little headstone carved, but somehow that did not seem quite right, so instead Eve had promised to plant a rose over the spot where Lucy lay. An old-fashioned rose.
Perpétué et Félicité,
perhaps. Darling little pale pink flowers. Just right for Lucy.

Perpétué et Félicité.
She thought of Lucy, running across the grass towards her, eyes shining, ears streaming, tail whisking with delight. It was a good way to remember her, and
Félicité
meant happiness. Her eyes had misted with tears – it was still impossible to think of Lucy without tears – but she brushed them swiftly away and turned and followed her husband through the door.

Behind them, the deserted room lay empty and still, but for a curtain stirring, caught by the summer morning breeze.