The sat nav took me to the outskirts of Northstone, out past a petrol station and the garden centre and left down a long country lane. The hedgerows were dotted with wild flowers in pinks and purples, the sun shone over the fields beyond. I saw rabbits beneath trees, cows munching, two walkers with rucksacks crossing a meadow towards a stile.
I envied them strolling across the springy grass, in the soft breeze, listening to the birds, heading for the woodlands in the distance. I wanted to wander with the warmth of someone else’s hand in mine. (Not Rob’s clammy one, obviously.) I was still suitably stunned by his assumption that I would consider, in my wildest dreams, falling back into his flaccid, liver-spotted arms.
I imagined David’s well-toned triceps closing around me and enjoyed a small frisson at the thought of this evening as I rounded a final corner past the sign for Haverfordsham and saw the church spire and postcard-pretty cottages clustered around a tiny green.
I knew Malcolm lived in a village but I’d expected his abode to be functional and bachelor-like. The low whitewashed house around the corner at the far end of the main street, set back behind a hedge, was the loveliest of them all, its thatched roof and tangle of roses in the front garden like something straight from a selection box.
I looked for a name in case there was some mistake. The oak front door had no number but the words Sunny Dove in faded white paint were just visible along the top of the slightly rickety gate. I pushed it open and went up the path, suddenly anxious. But Malcolm had suggested brunch this weekend – he wouldn’t mind my coming however angry he was with Gabriel. I picked up the big brass knocker and knocked.
The woman who opened the door – early sixties, blue-checked overall, severe grey hair – regarded me sternly. I stepped back.
‘OH!’ I said, stupidly. ‘I was hoping to see Malcolm.’ She continued to look at me impassively as my brain whirred. He’d never actually said he was single – had just implied it with tales of multiple divorces. I looked at the cloth in her hand and deciding she must be there cleaning.
‘I’m Tess,’ I offered, smiling at her. ‘I’m a friend of his.’
‘Another of his lost causes?’ The woman sniffed. ‘I should get in quick before he’s given it all to the refugees.’
‘Sorry?’
‘I’m the housekeeper.’ She had her arms folded now, as if determined to block my entrance before I made off with the silver. ‘He’s out the back with that bird of his.’
Had he got a girlfriend as well? Feeling like I’d stepped into an episode of Downton Abbey, I followed her down a narrow hallway through a large sunny room with antique furniture – I took in a beautiful chaise longue and carved writing desk – and out through a pair of French doors onto a breathtaking country garden of hollyhocks, more rambling roses, ornamental thistles, giant poppies, hibiscus and banks of flowering bushes I couldn’t name.
A large, curved pale sculpture stood in the middle of the emerald lawn at the centre. Water tumbled down it into a shallow bowl, overflowing and glinting in the light as it disappeared below. I stopped, mesmerised.
Beside me Mrs Hughes-Bridges sighed. ‘Shed,’ she said.
She stepped across the grass to a weathered wooden hut half-hidden behind a mass of pale-mauve lavatera and put her head through the open door. ‘Your friend is here,’ she announced grandly. ‘I’m going to finish the mirrors.’
I poked my head into the dim, warm interior. It smelled of earth and creosote. Malcolm was squatting down among watering cans and garden tools, apparently engrossed in some sheets of newsprint. He didn’t look around. ‘Can’t fly yet,’ he said over his shoulder.
I went further in and peered around him. A young blackbird was squeaking on the newspaper, beak straining open. I watched, entranced, as Malcolm proffered a lump of what looked like mashed fruit, touched by the delicate movement of the tiny tweezers in his large hands.
I crouched down too. ‘No parents?’
‘Don’t seem to be and a cat will have him if I let him out.’
Malcolm straightened up. ‘I thought you couldn’t make it today?’
‘Not for brunch no, but–’
‘You’ve come about that despicable little twerp. He’ll wish he’d stayed in America when I get hold of him.’
He walked outside, waited for me and closed the door gently behind him. ‘Let me send Vera the Smearer packing and I’ll make some tea.’
‘So she’s your housekeeper?’ I enquired, smiling.
Malcolm snorted. ‘She’s supposed to come for three hours a week to dust and hoover but because she drives her own husband to distraction and he spends his life hiding from her in his shed she turns up here to plague me until I’m forced to hide in mine. Always got some little job to finish!’
‘She’s probably lonely,’ I said.
‘Never stops talking.’
I pointed to the sculpture. ‘I didn’t think you were into modern art.’
Malcolm looked at me with pity. ‘It’s a bird bath you daft mare.’
He left me sitting on a bench outside the French doors with the sun on my face and disappeared inside. I watched a bumble bee crawling along a buddleia flower and breathed deeply. Despite his words, he did not seem as enraged with Gabriel as I’d thought he would be. It would be hard to feel anger for long in a garden like this.
‘Do you do it all yourself?’ I asked, when Malcolm had returned with two china mugs and sat down beside me.
‘Yes! There’s an old boy in the village who thinks he does it. But he’s bent double and can’t see. Turns up, cuts what he thinks are deadheads off my prize dahlias, pokes about in a flowerbed for five minutes, I give him twenty quid and he goes home. Then I do the rest.’ Malcolm suddenly chuckled. ‘Can’t stop him when he’s that old. Did you want a biscuit?’
I shook my head, heartened by this display of employer care.
‘Gabriel was so upset,’ I said, ‘He was shaking.’
‘Because he was caught.’
‘No it was more than that – he seemed …’ I trailed off, unable to find the words for the desperation in Gabriel’s eyes. ‘I wouldn’t have told you.’ I said. ‘Rob shouldn’t have either.’
‘Have you taken him back?’
‘I’d rather chew my own leg off. I was furious that he said anything.’
‘I knew already.’
Malcolm leant back, the top of his arm touching mine. He felt warm and solid and for a strange moment I wanted to put my head on his shoulder. I turned to look at him. ‘Did Jinni–?’
Malcolm was staring straight ahead up the garden. ‘I suspected him as soon as he did it to you.’
‘But why? He’s become like family. He–’
It was the same question I’d asked Gabriel the night before, sick with hurt that he’d cause me distress after the affection we’d shown him. The question that had left him shaking his head hopelessly, repeating ‘I’m sorry,’ over and over.
‘Don’t you know?’ Malcolm was still looking stonily ahead.
‘To have something to write about – for you?’
‘Not for me.’
‘You can’t just sack him.’
‘I most certainly can.’
‘If you’d seen him – he looked so defenceless – like he’d been stripped bare–’
‘What do you want me to do? Get him counselling and give him promotion?’
‘Just talk to him. See if you can find out–’ I didn’t really understand why I felt so upset for Gabriel, despite all he’d done, but my gut told me he wasn’t a bad person. It didn’t make sense.
‘I should have sacked him last time.’ Malcolm’s voice was grim. ‘Instead of listening to you. And the females in the office wailing because I was shouting at him on the day his mother had died or whatever it was.’
‘What?’ I sat bolt upright. ‘His mother’s died? Jesus, Malcolm, no wonder the poor boy’s in a state. Why didn’t he tell me?’ I was almost shouting now. ‘Why didn’t YOU?’
‘Not literally that day, you silly woman. It was ages ago – a year, two years.’
‘That’s not long. I had no idea – all those times I’ve said his mum must be proud of him. Oh my God.’ I put my head in my hands, mortified. ‘You can’t sack him now, no wonder he’s messed up. I’ve been a mother substitute and–’ I stopped and glared. ‘Why didn’t you let me know?’
‘Why would I? How did I know you didn’t know already?’
I was on my feet, pacing in front of him in fury. ‘You listened to me talking about her! I can’t believe how selfish and unfeeling you are. And don’t you dare call me a silly woman, you chauvinistic old–’ I stopped, floundering for a word that would sum up my feelings of rage as Malcolm regarded me impassively, ‘–GIT!’
‘My wives said I was a bastard,’ he said calmly.
‘I’m not fucking surprised!’ He flinched and I felt a pang. It disappeared as he ploughed on.
‘So your poor little wounded soldier lied and connived and created a whole fantasy world in which he could be the hero. He slashed tyres, broke windows–
‘No, he didn’t. The tyres and the nasty letter he was looking into,’ I said, ‘they were real. But that gave him the idea. To carry it on. He said he’d heard about another town that got a new station and the house prices doubled and there was a lot of bad feeling against the city people who moved in, and he thought–’
‘I’m going to shake him till his teeth rattle,’ said Malcolm.
‘It would make the feature for you,’ I went on. ‘And it would be something he could show.’
‘So he started smashing windows, himself–’
‘He didn’t. Some boys did, by accident, on the way home from the pub. But he saw it and when Jinni thought it was a personal attack, he let her think that–’
‘Idiot!’
‘But he did get it repaired for her–’
‘So his mate could get free advertising.’
‘And he only did things he could put right again. He repainted my house–’
‘Regular little Robin Hood. Shall we nominate him for the Nobel prize for community service?’ Malcolm’s face was set hard. ‘That is the biggest load of bollocks I’ve heard for a long time. He did it because of you.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
‘And why did he try and get one final lot of damage in last night? Because YOU told him I was getting the CCTV put in. I knew you would. I told you not to tell anyone–’
‘I didn’t think you meant–’
Malcolm gave a grim smile. ‘I knew I was right. Hack’s nose. So I wound him up a bit – said we’d make a splash of it, told him the sort of profile I thought it was – that they’d return to Jinni’s because she was so gobby about it–’ Malcolm looked satisfied. ‘And back he went. Like shooting fish in a bloody barrel.’
I stared at him in disbelief. ‘That’s horrible.’
‘But accurate! If you hadn’t disturbed him, he’d have had another go at you too.’
‘Why?’
‘Because then he could be Sir Galahad.’ Malcolm put on a whiny voice ‘Oh, Tess, let me help you clean all this nasty paint off.’
‘OH Gabriel,’ he pitched his voice even higher – ‘you’re such a lovely boy. Your mother must be so proud.’
‘Stop it! That’s disgusting. I feel terrible.’
‘He wanted your attention,’ Malcolm said in his normal voice. ‘Because–’
‘Because,’ I said emotionally, ‘he is clearly in a terrible state about losing his mother.’ I thought about Ben – parentless in a strange town with nobody to talk to and felt the tears come into my eyes. ‘What happened to her?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Well, you should have,’ I raged at him. ‘You had a duty of care.’
‘Pah.’
The sound of his contempt ignited me further. ‘Stop being vile. He needs help and support!’
‘No doubt he’ll get plenty from the unemployment office.’
I picked up my handbag, almost knocking my mug over, and considering briefly throwing it at Malcolm’s self-satisfied face.
‘Your wives were right,’ I said, choked. ‘You are a bloody bastard.’
I sat in my car, heart thumping, overwhelmed by rage and sorrow. I’d thought Malcolm’s brusque exterior masked an empathy and compassion he clearly didn’t feel at all. Poor Gabriel was emotionally disturbed and needed help. I pulled my phone out, ready to ring him and then put it down again fearing I’d sound so upset myself I’d make it worse.
I wished I had someone to talk to. Jinni had been spitting rivets – I didn’t know how long it would take her to come round – and Caroline had just sent a text to say she’d phone tomorrow because something had come up. This was accompanied by a smiley face. Fran would be knee deep in kids on a Saturday afternoon. Oliver and Sam had been going out to lunch with friends of hers and Ben would be out cold. Had Tilly known about Gabriel’s mother? Surely she’d have told me.
As I sat, taking deep breaths, my eye fell on the text I’d had this morning. I scrolled through earlier ones for the postcode and then jabbed at the sat nav. He was only two miles away. Suddenly I wanted to see David’s smiley, crinkly eyes, smell his delicious aftershave and feel his arms close around me. I started the engine, shaken by how upset the altercation with Malcolm had left me. I wanted a hug.
The sun beat down on my forearm as I gripped the wheel. As the narrow lane straightened out to an empty expanse of road ahead, I put my foot down and sped down into a dip and up an incline the other side and on round another bend until the small screen on my dashboard told me I was almost there.
I slowed down as I approached. Long Barn House was on its own at the end of a small turning, at the top of a sloping garden. I had never seen anything quite like it.
The original barn construction was still there, with mellow brick walls and massive beams, the small rose and grey roof tiles clearly original. But the huge steel-framed windows running the whole height of the building and a massive glass extension gave it a cutting-edge, almost futuristic, look. A flight of sharp concrete steps cut through the turf up to the thick glass and wood front door. Terraced flowerbeds on one side were filled with lavender bushes and a tall spiky blue flower I didn’t recognise. It was enormous.
The black-metal barred gate stood open onto a large stone-paved area with a tall, industrial-looking steel floodlight to one side and David’s Porsche parked beneath it.
All at once my heart was beating hard. I put the handbrake on and ran up the steps before I could change my mind.
He opened the door surprised. ‘Tess!’
He was wearing black jeans and a loose, short-sleeved grey open-necked polo shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. His black hair was soft, as if it had just been washed. He looked delectable.
My mouth flapped open.
Over his shoulder, lolling in a doorway behind him, I recognised the woman with the shiny black hair from the gallery. She was wearing a short denim skirt, an extra button or two open on her top, her brown feet bare on the polished wood floor. Her gaze left me in no doubt I was an unwelcome intrusion.
As I stared back, she gave a small, tight smirk of greeting and threw David a look. His eyebrows were raised. Keeping his back to her, he gave me a small quirky smile as if we shared a secret and raised his eyebrows some more, as if her presence were entirely beyond his control. His eyes flicked to his watch. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t–’
I felt completely embarrassed. ‘I’ve brought your stuff back!’ I blurted out, praising the heavens I’d slung the box in the car while I was waiting for Rob and Tilly to sling their hooks.
I indicated the car below and turned and ran hot-faced back down the steps.
‘Here it all is.’ I heard him behind me, but didn’t look round as I busied myself pulling open the rear door of the car and tugging at the box.
‘Let me.’
I stood aside as he leant over and lifted it easily from the car. I could smell soap and something spicy. I wanted to touch him. He put the box on the low wall that edged the garden where the lawn swept upwards.
‘So have you caught someone already?’ He enquired, turning back to me. ‘Did you manage to nail the real culprit?’ He stressed the ‘real’ with another sardonic brow raise.
‘Sort of,’ I said. ‘Er, no, not really. The newspaper got us some other equipment–’
‘Tell me later,’ he said, moving closer and putting his hand on my arm, making my skin tingle. ‘I wasn’t expecting Lucia to call by. I’ll make sure she–’
‘What an amazing-looking place,’ I interrupted him.
‘Thank you.’ He hesitated. ‘I’d invite you in but–’
‘You’re a bit busy in there?’ I finished for him brightly. ‘It’s really no problem. I’ve got a lot on too. We can do it some other time–’
My heart was pounding. And then my phone rang. We both looked at it lying on the front seat of my car. ‘I’ll just–’ I muttered, seeing his look of irritation as I reached for it, unable to break the habit of quickly checking who it was, in case something had happened to one of the kids …
It was Gerald’s name flashing up on the screen and alarm gripped me. I pressed answer.
‘Your mum’s gone off again.’ For a moment he was hopeful. ‘She hasn’t come to you?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I mouthed at David, unable to break the apologising habit even if he did have another woman stashed up there. A woman who was now standing in the open doorway looking down at him. He walked away, putting the box on the bottom step and sitting next to it in the sunshine as I paced between our cars while Gerald explained.
My mother had been getting increasingly agitated about her appointment, asking Gerald constantly what time it was and where she was meeting me, twice getting her coat and shoes on, despite his reassurances it wasn’t until Monday (here I felt a wash of guilt for both forgetting and not replying to his text earlier).
This morning he’d gone to get the shopping and left her, apparently contentedly, listening to the radio in the garden and when he came back she’d gone. He’d been driving around Margate looking for her and had called her friends. But there was no sign of her and Mo thought she might have got confused again and got on a train to see me.
‘Would she be able to do that?’ I asked anxiously.
‘Probably,’ Gerald sounded equally worried. ‘Her handbag has gone – she’s got money. She’s got your address in the back of her purse. I put all our numbers there. But I don’t know whether she’ll think to look.’
‘I’m not there at the moment,’ I told him. ‘But Ben is – he’ll phone me if she turns up.’ As I said it, I realised Ben could be fast asleep or have rallied and headed down town for a fry-up. I knew Rob had given him some money before he left …
‘I’ll go home now,’ I said.
David got up as soon as I’d put the phone away. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘Family problem. I’ve got to go.’
He touched my arm again. ‘But I’ll see you this evening?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to.’
‘Oh come on! Lucia will be going soon.’ He smiled as it were all rather amusing. ‘Is that why you ran away last night? I didn’t know she’d be on the train either.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Look, we had a bit of an on-off thing and–’ his hand was now curled around my wrist. ‘Put it this way – she wants it to be “on” rather more than I do. He gave me one of his huge, disarming smiles. ‘I would like us to –’
I got hurriedly into my car. ‘I must go!’
‘We’ll finish this conversation later?’ He was leaning down to look at me through the window as I started the engine. Frustration, disappointment, worry about my mother, the image of Lucia and the way she’d been looking at David, the way she was now leaning against the doorpost, very much at home, welled up inside me and for a moment I felt as though I was going to cry.
I looked at him as I pushed the gear stick into reverse, confusion, misery and humiliation making my voice hard.
‘I really can’t see the point.’