CHARLOTTE AND OLIVER are the last to return to Brockscombe. She is surprised at how pleased she is to be back on her own patch. It’s good to go to Tavistock and see everyone, it makes a change to have help with Oliver and a bit of a rest, but she doesn’t like him to get out of his routine and it’s difficult to lay down the law, what with Mum spoiling him and Dad making jokes about her having more rules and regs than the navy.
Mattie was looking radiant, talking about the prospect of a job at Exeter Uni and getting the dogs overexcited. Later, she said that on her way down she’d had lunch with Tim at the Two Bridges Hotel and, just for a moment, Charlotte was a bit hurt that they hadn’t invited her and Oliver along, given that she had to pass the hotel on her way to Tavistock.
‘It was on the spur of the moment,’ Mattie said quickly, seeing her expression. ‘I sent him a text and he just happened to be up on the moor walking Wooster.’
And, after all, thinks Charlotte, they’re perfectly entitled to want some time together: she wouldn’t want to play gooseberry. Even so, Mattie is still evasive about the relationship and it’s difficult to find out just how serious it is.
Charlotte is pretty certain, though, that Mattie planned to see Tim on her way back. On Sunday evening Dad said, ‘Oh, by the way, Mattie, is it OK if I hitch a lift with you to London tomorrow? I’m going up for a reunion thrash. I can get the train back but it would be nice to have some company on the way.’
Just for a second Charlotte saw a flash of chagrin on Mattie’s face before she said, ‘Yes, of course. Lovely. I shall want to get away after breakfast to try to beat the traffic, if that’s OK.’ And then a bit later she noticed her sister texting. It might have been a coincidence but some sixth sense told Charlotte that’s how it was: she’d arranged to meet Tim and was having to cancel. Though why she felt she had to is a bit of a mystery. It’s not as if he hasn’t met the parents. He was introduced when they came over to Brockscombe and he’s seen them a few times now when they’ve visited. The three of them could have had coffee somewhere.
Anyway, it’s none of her business. Charlotte begins to unload Oliver from the car and glances around to see if Wooster is about. She wonders if he’s missed them.
‘You wouldn’t want to take Wooster to Washington,’ Dad said. ‘Crazy idea. We’ll have him here until you get back,’ and then Mattie said, ‘If I get the Exeter job, I’ll have him,’ which was almost as crazy as taking him to Washington.
Everyone was very excited about Andy’s posting, assuring her how great it would be. It’s odd that they never seem to notice that the more they tell her how much she’ll enjoy something, the more she digs her heels in and feels stubborn about it. After all, how do they know what she feels or how it will be for her? It irritates her, people assuming they can influence her by sheer willpower. It’s the same way they still call Oliver ‘Ollie’ or ‘Ol’. They know she doesn’t really like it but they still do it as if by continual usage they’ll change her mind.
Charlotte dumps her case by the car and carries Oliver indoors. It’s good to be home.
Tim hears the car, goes to the window, and Wooster gets up, tail wagging expectantly. Tim hesitates. He wonders exactly what Mattie has said about their meeting and he feels just the least bit equivocal about seeing Charlotte.
‘We’ll tell her,’ Mattie said in the car park at the Two Bridges Hotel. ‘Of course we must. We’ll tell her about having lunch here but I’d rather like to keep the rest to ourselves. Do you mind?’ She looked at him anxiously. ‘Only because . . . well, it’s kind of private, isn’t it? Special.’
He nodded and put his arms round her and held her closely. ‘Very special,’ he said.
‘What about meeting up on my way back on Monday?’ she asked hopefully.
He nodded. ‘But not there,’ he said. He spoke without thinking and saw a shadow cross her face. ‘Not because it wasn’t special,’ he said quickly. ‘But simply because it was. Next time it might be raining or there might be someone walking or anything . . .’
He didn’t know quite how to explain what he meant: that something spontaneous, an unplanned meeting, is so much more likely to have that particular kind of magic than an organized event that has expectation automatically built in to it. But she nodded, understanding at once.
‘What about here?’ she asked. ‘Or do you feel the same way?’
He smiled at her. ‘Not quite. The fires will probably still be lit on Monday and there will probably be a sofa free. It’s not quite the same as your cave.’
‘We could meet here,’ she said, ‘and then drive on a bit if the weather’s fine. I know a nice little beach down by the river. I’ll have the hamper primed.’
He laughed. ‘You do that. Let’s throw it in the lap of the gods.’
She stretched up and kissed him. ‘Let’s do that then. I’ll text when I leave. I’ll tell Charlotte we had lunch here, and the parents if they ask. I’d better go.’
He and Wooster watched her drive away, hand waving from the window. It hurt him to think that she might be wondering why he wouldn’t tell her the obstacle to their love: she must realize that he wasn’t involved with anybody else. Perhaps on Monday . . . But then he had her text saying that her father was cadging a lift to London. He wondered if he should suggest they all meet but he lost his nerve.
Now, he goes out to see Charlotte, Wooster running eagerly ahead.
‘Hi,’ he calls through her open door. ‘Welcome home.’
Wooster barges in and Charlotte comes to meet him. She looks happy, glad to be back, and he smiles at her and waves to Oliver, who is sitting in his chair at the table.
‘Did you miss us?’ she asks.
‘We certainly did. We had lots of walks and we met up with Mattie at the Two Bridges Hotel. It was really lucky. She texted to say that she was making good time and just driving up on to the moor and Wooster and I weren’t that far away. I’ve never been there before. It’s really good.’
He listens to himself lying with such ease and feels a bit guilty but Charlotte has obviously heard it from Mattie anyway so she doesn’t look suspicious.
‘It’s a pity she couldn’t come in to see you on her way home,’ she says. ‘Only Dad’s going with her and he’ll want to get on.’
He nearly says, ‘I know,’ and realizes how easy it is to get trapped. Instead he says: ‘Did Ollie enjoy himself?’
‘Mum always spoils him,’ she says, ‘but that’s what grannies do, isn’t it?’
‘Mine did,’ he says lightly. ‘But I don’t think it did any lasting damage. Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting Wooster back. I can keep borrowing him, though, I hope?’
She immediately assumes the expression that Mattie calls ‘Charlotte’s organizing face’: a little frown and a pursing of the lips.
‘I still think you should have a dog of your own, Tim,’ she says. ‘I mean, why not? You’re so good with Wooster and it would be great company for you. Of course you can borrow him but why not have one of your own? Or is it because you don’t know what you might want to do next? You’re not thinking of leaving just yet, I hope?’
All the alarm bells are ringing now and he feels trapped. Usually everyone goes along with the sabbatical idea, his having the inheritance, which means he can take time out, and he’s relaxed into a sense of safety.
‘I’ve got no plans to leave for a while yet,’ he says, smiling at her, ‘but a dog’s quite a responsibility, isn’t it? Well, look how you’re worrying about taking Wooster to Washington.’
It’s rather neat, he thinks, to turn it back on her and distract her from his own problems. She gives a little snort.
‘Mum and Dad have offered to have him,’ she says. ‘They think it would be madness to take him to Washington. Even Mattie offered, which is utter lunacy.’
‘Did she?’ he asks, surprised. ‘How would she manage him in London?’
‘There’s this job at Exeter University. Did she tell you? If she gets that then she thinks she could cope with him somehow.’
‘Oh, yes. She did mention it.’
Charlotte shakes her head. ‘How would he be when she’s at work? The trouble with Mattie is that she doesn’t think things through. Just wanting to do something is enough and all the problems will instantly dissolve. It’s what Dad calls her “can do” approach to life.’
Tim laughs. ‘Well, I suppose it’s good to be positive.’
Charlotte looks bleak. ‘It’s OK for her. Even when things go wrong she always has people flocking to help her out.’
He watches her, suddenly feeling sorry for her. It can’t be easy, with Andy away, to carry on her life; waiting, wishing she could share things with him, taking all the responsibility for Oliver. Tim doesn’t know how to offer comfort and even whether she wants it. Knowing Charlotte, he suspects she might see it as a weakness.
‘I was just thinking about doing a sandwich for lunch,’ he says. ‘Come and join me.’
She hesitates, frowning, as if tempted, and then shakes her head. ‘I ought to get on and I’ve got to sort something out for Oliver.’
He waits, sad that she can never quite let go, but wondering if she’s afraid to relinquish her hold just in case she might be swept away, out of control. Perhaps her rigid discipline is the only way she can cope with this odd life of hers.
‘OK,’ he says gently. ‘Good to have you back. I’ll get Wooster’s things, shall I?’
‘Yes, he’ll need his basket.’ She pauses as though she’s still having a little struggle with herself. ‘Look, why not bring your sandwich round and have it with us? I haven’t got much in, I’m afraid. I’ve got to do a supermarket run later. But it would be good to have some company.’
‘Great,’ he says. ‘Sure you don’t want to share my sandwich? There’s plenty.’
She laughs and suddenly she looks younger, happy again. ‘Go on then,’ she says. ‘Why not? Thanks, Tim.’
He hurries back to his own cottage to assemble a little picnic lunch and suddenly he thinks of Mattie with her hamper, the rug spread on the moorland turf, her ‘cave’ of granite and gorse. He remembers her saying, ‘Can you hear the lark?’ and how hot the sun was. At those moments it’s almost as if he can control this wretched disease and will it away: defeat it. How odd that, out of the blue that morning in London nearly six months ago, he should have casually asked Mattie the question: where should he go? He’d put his life in the hands of the gods and they brought him to Brockscombe.
Tim packs the picnic into a plastic box, balances it in Wooster’s basket with the remains of his food and goes to find Charlotte.