FIONA SITS AT the kitchen table watching William unloading the dishwasher. As he puts things away, talking about what’s been happening since she was last down from London, she thinks how extraordinary it is that she should be here. After the separation, when William moved to Brockscombe, they met only at family events where, for Andy’s sake, they were always amicable. So successful were they on these occasions that some of Andy’s friends didn’t know anything had changed. It was only once Andy and Charlotte moved in next door and Oliver was born that she visited Brockscombe.
It seems odd, and yet familiar, to be sitting here in this domestic setting and talking to William about family things. She can see that he is enjoying it, which is also slightly surprising remembering his reaction when she’d asked about the cottage as a bolt hole. There has been a sea change since that first barbecue after she’d met Kat and Jerry at the Cott.
As she looks around the kitchen Fiona notices familiar objects: some hand-painted china on the dresser, the brass-bound clock on the wall, a watercolour painting. Even during the sharing out of their belongings they hadn’t quarrelled. The new flat in London required modern pieces and a minimalistic approach, not cottage-style furniture, so in the end she took very little apart from her books and personal items.
‘What happened to the kitchen table and chairs?’ she asks suddenly.
William straightens up and glances round. ‘They all went in the sale. Francis lets these cottages partly furnished and actually some of the furniture is very old and much better than anything we had. This oak table is nicer than our rather tatty pine, don’t you think?’
She has to admit that it is but she feels a little pang at the thought of his parting so easily with things they’d chosen so happily together when they were starting out. He’s looking at her as if he can guess her thoughts.
‘Well, you didn’t want it, did you?’ he asks. ‘We agreed that anything surplus would go into the house clearance sale and we’d share the proceeds.’
This is perfectly true: she walked away from it all uncaringly – why should he be expected to cherish the things she rejected?
‘No, no, I know. It was just seeing a few familiar bits and pieces. Takes me back.’
She smiles at him, wanting to establish a rapport, a sentimental link to their past, but he remains wary.
‘Francis let me store some things in the house,’ he says. ‘I’m not sure you’d want any of it. Mostly it’s Andy’s stuff. Books and toys. You know the kind of thing. I thought they’d be nice to pass on if he had kids of his own.’
‘And now he has,’ she says lightly. ‘It was good of you to think of that, Wills. I suppose, knowing you as I do, that I just assumed you’d do all the right things.’
She means it, too. He’s a good man and his instincts will always lead him to do what’s best for the people he loves.
‘Unlike me,’ she adds, grinning at him, ‘who only ever thinks of Number One. It’s all about me, me, me.’
‘That’s not true,’ he says, laughing too. ‘At least, not all the time. Although now you’re here you might like to look at a few of the things I saved. If anything happens to Francis and I have to lift and shift then I shall need to make a few quick decisions.’
The laughter fades from her face and she frowns. ‘How do you mean? Would you have to leave Brockscombe?’
‘Oh, yes. The boys would certainly sell it. Neither of them has any feeling for the place and it’s too big to keep as a kind of family holiday cottage. They’ll sell.’
‘But where would you go, Wills?’ She’s really upset at the thought of his having to find a new home. ‘You love it here.’
He makes a little face, shrugs. ‘It was always on the cards. I do love it here, especially with Charlotte and Oliver next door, and Kat. It’s been a lifesaver for me but I always knew the score.’
She feels herself colouring, flushing with the shame of her own selfishness.
‘I suppose I wasn’t thinking straight,’ she says. ‘I never did quite know what the relationship is between Cousin Francis and you but I assumed that you’d probably have certain rights and privileges, if you see what I mean.’
‘It would be crazy to give anyone rights over one cottage in such a big complex. It would certainly affect the value of the place. No, no, I knew it wouldn’t be for ever. Anyway, let’s not worry about that now. It’s not your problem.’
And this is true, she tells herself. She has no right to query it or make suggestions. At the same time it throws a new kind of slant on the future and she decides that she needs to think about this very carefully.
William watches her disappear to see Oliver and Charlotte and wonders why he didn’t mention Andy’s leave. He’s discussed his idea that Fiona should be offered his spare room for a night or two with both Charlotte and Kat with positive results.
‘Well, she’ll definitely want to see him,’ Charlotte agreed, ‘though, if you don’t mind I’d rather it was the last weekend than the first. The first is always a bit strange, getting used to each other again, and I’d want some privacy with Andy and Oliver. But the last weekend is emotional, knowing he’s going and all of that, so having people around can be quite good.’
William understood that. ‘If you’re certain,’ he said. ‘You and Andy and Oliver are the important ones here.’
‘I’ll leave you to arrange it with her,’ Charlotte said, ‘but stay firm about the second weekend.’
He promised he would and later he mentioned it to Kat.
‘Much nicer for Fiona to be here than at the pub,’ Kat said at once. ‘It’s always difficult to know when you can turn up when you’re not on the spot and it’s nice to have your own space to disappear into when you feel like it. Of course she’ll want to see Andy – we all do – but Charlotte and Ollie come first. It’ll be bad enough for them to have us around at all, I should think. We need to be very tactful. I can see Charlotte’s point about it being the last weekend for Fiona. I’m sure she’ll understand that.’
‘You seemed to be getting on better with her last time she was here,’ he ventured.
‘I know.’ Kat looked puzzled, thinking it out. ‘I think we very slightly demonized her after she left. We cast her in the role of the wicked witch, didn’t we? I’m not making excuses for her or anything but I think the more we did it the more she reacted to it, so that it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. That last time, when I met her at the pub when I was with Jerry, I saw her as the old Fiona, the one we used to know and love, and everything slipped back into focus.’
William wasn’t sure how to respond. He still felt bitter and hurt when he thought about Sam, and how Fiona had behaved, but what Kat said was true: his anger had eroded any love and kindness between them until only dislike was left. It had been so hard at those family events to present a jolly, smiling exterior, to pretend that he and Fiona were still good friends, but it was necessary for Andy’s sake.
Then, this last time, it was as if something that had been painfully out of joint suddenly slipped back into place. He was able to be friendly to her and, in turn, she was able to respond so that a small miracle occurred. It was so good, so important to him, that he was unable to broach the subject of his invitation to her to stay during Andy’s leave whilst she sat here in the kitchen. He was afraid that she might question him: ‘Why now? What’s changed?’ And how would he answer?
He knows it’s foolish but he didn’t want to risk this new entente cordiale, but now he regrets his pathetic timidity. As soon as he is alone with her again, he tells himself, he will ask her if she would like to stay for a night or two during the special occasion of Andy’s leave – and beyond that he refuses to think.
‘Did William tell you his plan?’ Charlotte is asking Fiona as they watch Oliver lying on his rug, kicking his legs.
She sees by Fiona’s blank expression that she’s jumped the gun, but, after all, it doesn’t really matter which of them invites Fiona and she’s been so much nicer just lately; less prickly and sarcastic.
‘Andy’s got a week’s leave next month and we were wondering if you’d like to come down for the last weekend of it,’ she says. ‘William thought you might like to stay with him and Aunt Kat so as to get in a bit more quality time rather than dashing between here and the pub.’
Fiona’s face first shows surprise, and then such delight that Charlotte almost feels embarrassed.
‘Just a night or two,’ she mumbles, ‘but not the first weekend, if you don’t mind.’
Fiona shakes her head quickly. ‘No, of course not. I quite see that you want to be on your own, the three of you. I’d love to, of course I would.’
‘William was going to ask you. It was his idea. Better pretend I haven’t put my foot in it. He’s planning a barbecue for Saturday night for everyone.’
Fiona laughs. ‘Perhaps he’s changed his mind about asking me. I wouldn’t blame him. But I’ll come anyway, if I may, and stay at the pub as usual. Thanks, Charlotte. I really appreciate you inviting me. It’s such a short time and you haven’t seen Andy for ages.’
‘Well, neither have you.’
They sit together for a moment in silence, staring down at Oliver, who is trying to roll himself over. Charlotte realizes that being a mother has very slightly changed her attitude towards Fiona. She feels less defensive of her position as Andy’s wife. This new relaxation within her appears to have struck a chord with Fiona, who seems less determined to fight her corner. Charlotte is almost tempted to tell Fiona how lonely she gets; how difficult, sometimes, it is becoming to remember Andy properly, and that she actually feels quite nervous about seeing him again. It is impossible, however, to frame the words and a part of her shrinks from discussing their intimate and private life with his mother.
‘He’ll be crawling soon,’ observes Fiona, leaning to tickle Oliver with one of his soft toys. ‘Then you’ll really have to watch out. He’ll be into everything and you won’t have a moment’s peace. Have you got a playpen?’
Charlotte shakes her head. ‘Not yet. But I think you’re right. Even now, when he’s on his front, he can inch his way along like a little seal.’
‘Perhaps,’ says Fiona tentatively, ‘I could buy you one for him. I’d like to do that. We could go off after lunch and have a look for one.’
Charlotte is about to say that she’d probably buy one online when she realizes that Fiona would enjoy a little expedition with them both, choosing Oliver’s playpen.
‘Thanks,’ she says. ‘That would be fun.’
To her surprise she even believes it.