The dining-room table at June and Frank's house looked more like a jumble sale than anything else. Becca recognised things from her childhood, prints of famous paintings, pots, a World War I medical kit her grandmother had used. Becca lifted the lid. It hadn't been used very much, judging by the number of bandages left.
'I don't think Clarice was that keen on nursing,' June said, peering in too.
Becca slammed the lid down. 'You can't get rid of all this.'
'I don't want it any more,' June said simply.
Becca prodded a wooden rhinoceros with her finger. Its horn had been broken, but she could remember it taking pride of place on her parents' mantelpiece when she was a child. It was supposed to stay with them. 'What are you going to do with it all?'
'Obviously you have first choice, but anything that's left over I was going to give to the Friends of the Holburne for their summer fair. I don't suppose any of this is worth much.'
Maybe not much in money, Becca felt like saying, but worth a million memories. She picked up one of the jugs. It had been hand made and the honey-brown glaze dripped like caramel over a custard-yellow base. In the spring June had always filled it with an abundance of daffodils and put it in the hall where it created a pool of welcoming golden light. 'I'd like this,' she said.
June took it from her. 'It's a nice jug,' she said turning it round in her hands, a slight smile on her face, as if she too was remembering.
'Perhaps you should keep it,' Becca said.
June smiled, and put the jug down. 'I'm aiming to take as little as possible with me when I move,' she said. 'Hopefully I'll find some little fisherman's cottage and paint it all white, and have nothing but empty space and blank walls.'
'That sounds a bit bleak,' Becca said.
'I expect I'll soon fill it up with things,' June said absent-mindedly. 'Do you think Lily would like this doll?' Frank had brought it back from some trip abroad for either Becca or Joanna.
'I think Lily's a bit too old for dolls,' Becca said. She felt like saying, that's my doll, but she couldn't be sure if it had been hers or Joanna's. She felt cross with June for dismantling her life. It was as if all the foundations of Becca's childhood were being sold off for a few pennies.
'Perhaps Lily could come up and choose some things she might like at the weekend.'
Becca nodded. 'I'll ask her, although Lily's arrangements are always a bit vague. It depends on what everyone else is doing. They all seem to hang out in a big mass and flock this way and that with no particular direction.' Except that Lily's direction was firmly towards Kevin after the Valentine's card. 'I could bring her up on Saturday - oh no!' She ran her hands through her hair. 'It's the twenty-third this weekend, isn't it? I've got this stupid conference to go to in Oxford. I keep on forgetting about it.'
'Probably means you don't want to go.'
'No, I don't. I got bounced into it by Bill ages ago.'
'What's it about?'
'It's an educational conference on using drama in education, whether for teaching English, or social skills or stuff like that. It should be interesting but I want to stay at home this weekend.'
Relations with Martin had been edgy since the weekend and Suzy's phone call. She'd thought they could have a lovely family weekend together, do things like go for a walk in the countryside or along the canal. She was intending to lure Lily with the promise of Sunday lunch out at a pub. 'Drat. I wonder if Martin's remembered. Probably not.'
She looked over at June who was holding the honey-glazed pot again. 'Are you OK?' To her surprise, June looked round with tears in her eyes. It was the first time Becca had seen her mother look vulnerable for ages. Her heart leapt. Perhaps she was regretting her decision to leave Frank. 'If you changed your mind about going,' Becca said gently, 'I'd think it was really brave. Sometimes the right thing is to stay.' June nodded. Encouraged, Becca continued. 'It's brave to admit you've made a mistake, and I'm sure no one would blame you for having a blip. Fifty years is a long time for anyone to stay married.'
'I did stay,' June said, turning the jug over in her hand. 'The man who made this was someone who...was special to me. He wanted me to leave Frank and go with him. But I couldn't do it.'
Becca's stomach lurched. 'What are you saying?'
'It's all very ancient history now, but a long time ago, when you and Jo were small, I met this man - he taught pottery at the evening class. Nothing happened,' she added quickly. 'Times were different. It might have been the sixties, but people didn't hop into bed with each other willy-nilly, at least, not ordinary people like us.' June gave a small laugh. 'I haven't thought about him for years. But I used to. I used to think about what would have happened if I'd gone with him. My life would have been very different, that's for sure.'
'Why didn't you go?' Becca whispered.
June sighed. 'I used to tell myself I had you and Joanna to think about. But to be honest, I think I wasn't brave enough to face all the uproar it would have caused. And I was brought up to be loyal - we all were at that time. You stuck with your marriage through thick and thin. You didn't expect as much as you young people do nowadays. I don't know. Perhaps I should have gone. Perhaps because I didn't go then, I'm going now.'
Becca stared at her. 'You're not going to him are you?'
'Heavens no. I've no idea where he is. He's probably a stuffy old man like your father by now.' June tapped the jug and it made a faint pinging sound. 'No, this time I'm going for myself. I'm going to have an adventure. Do you want the jug?' Becca shook her head, stunned by her mother's revelation. 'No, I didn't think you would. Never mind. It can go to the jumble sale.' June looked around the room, at all the things she had acquired in a lifetime of accumulating. 'You know, I thought I'd be upset, clearing all this stuff away and getting rid of my things. But now it's come, I can see that they're only things. I've had them, enjoyed them, and now it's someone else's turn.'
Becca shook her head, trying to take it all in. She was tempted to tell June about Paul, but then realised she hadn't heard from Paul since their meeting in the park. So he'd taken her at her word, and was leaving her alone. There was no point in discussing it with June; it was over, and the fewer people who knew, the better.
'I know you've found this all very hard, but be pleased for me, darling,' June said gently, not realising what Becca was thinking about. 'This is what's right for me.'
- ooo -
Becca let herself in through the back door, her mind still on June's extraordinary revelation. All she could think about was that June had nearly had an affair. Her mother. Her ultra-respectable, ultra-conventional mother.
'Is that you, Mum?' Lily was in the dining room. That meant she was on the computer instead of doing her homework.
'Sorry I'm a bit late, sweetheart. I was up at your gran's. Is your father around?'
'Dad left you a note.'
It was lying on the kitchen side. 'Gone to training session with Ian. Back later. Martin.'
What did 'back later' mean? Back in two hours, back for supper, back at midnight? Typical, bloody typical. What does he think this is? Some hotel? Something in her mind clicked and she whizzed back in time to a memory of June banging around in the kitchen at home muttering about Frank: what does he think this is? Some hotel? Back later indeed. Serve him right to come back later and find we'd all vanished.
Becca's heart missed a beat. Had her mother thought about vanishing at that point? She tried to re-create the scene in her mind. She could conjure up the kitchen with its hospital-green painted units, the wallpaper scattered with little bundles of vegetables, purple turnips and orange carrots and round scarlet splodges for tomatoes. There was lino on the floor - was it chequered? Becca couldn't remember. What was her mother wearing? An apron? A shift dress? She couldn't picture her. Joanna was there, her eyes round as she watched their mother, but Becca couldn't conjure up an image of June beyond a fuzz of anger and resentment.
Becca went to the fridge and took out the salmon fillets she'd intended for their supper, but her mind was on June. She'd always assumed June had been happy in her role as homemaker, but this memory didn't fit. She tried to reach back for other memories from her early childhood but they eluded her. She'd always said that she must have had a blissfully happy childhood because she couldn't remember anything about it, but now she wondered. Perhaps she had been suppressing all the bad stuff.
There was a sudden wail from the dining room that pierced her heart. Then in a whirl of black, Lily rushed through the kitchen and up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door. Becca ran upstairs after her. 'What is it? What's the matter?'
Lily was lying face down on the bed among bits of torn paper, head cradled in her arms. Becca sat on the bed next to her, and stroked her hair. 'Lily, sweetheart, what's the matter?'
Lily suddenly twisted round and clung to her, sobbing into Becca's lap. Becca could only murmur, 'There there, it's all right,' and other soothing nonsense as Lily wept her heart out. When it sounded as if the sobbing was dying down she pushed the hair back off Lily's face. 'What's the matter?'
'It wasn't Kevin,' wailed Lily.
'What wasn't?' Becca said.
'The Valentine's Day card. It wasn't him. All the time I've been thinking he wrote that poem, and everyone has known it wasn't him. They've all been laughing at me.'
Becca felt for Lily's pain, her loss of face. She stroked her head, trying to think of a way to help. 'Never mind, it was a lovely card to get. And think, you've got an unknown admirer. That's far more romantic.'
'He's not unknown. It's Sam,' wailed Lily as if that was the worst thing that could possibly happen to a teenager.
'Sam can't be all bad.'
'He's a nerd.'
'Better than a creep then,' Becca said, feeling desperate. 'And you'll always have that card to treasure.'
'I've ripped it up.'
'No! But it was a lovely poem. No one's ever sent me anything like that.'
'But it wasn't Kevin.'
Becca held her while Lily cried and cried. If she could have taken Lily's pain into herself she would have. Poor Lily, the path of her first love certainly wasn't running smooth. Perhaps it was because she'd been thinking of June earlier, but now she had another brief flashback to a woman crying in a darkened bedroom and Becca putting her arms around her and saying she'd make it better. The Becca in her memory had been young, a small child, and the crying woman had been June. Becca sat very still while Lily sobbed into her lap and the darkness gathered in the corners of the room.
Eventually Lily ran out of sobs. She curled up like a baby on the bed and allowed Becca to gently wash her tear-streaked face with a flannel dipped in cool water. A bang downstairs alerted her to Martin's return. She heard him thump up the stairs, two at a time, and came out of Lily's room to meet him on the landing.
'Hi, there - did you get my note?' Becca could feel a layer of sweat lying on his skin as he kissed her and it took all her willpower not to wipe her face.
'Supper'll be ready shortly,' she said, then lowered her voice. 'Lily's had a bit of an upset. Boy problems.'
Martin raised his eyebrows, then went off to shower, while Becca went downstairs to finish making supper. Poor Lily with her boy problems, Becca thought. Poor Becca with hers. Still, she'd made it clear to Paul that he wasn't to get in touch. She had done what June had, turned away another man for the sake of her family. No, that was unfair. She loved Martin. She loved him for his good humour and kindness, his generosity. She loved him for his little quirky ways, because he always tried to do the right thing. But now she recognised another niggling question: had she made the wrong choice all those years ago? Martin was loveable, but there was no question that Paul was more exciting and charismatic. In some ways he reminded her of the lecturer, with his energy. She tried to remember him but he had been overlaid by Paul's image.
But Paul had gone from her life. A part of her felt a loss. His letters and cards, while she hadn't wanted to receive them, had been the major excitement of her day. She had felt she was starring in a Technicolor version of her everyday life, one filled with glamorous lovers and romantic gestures. Now it was back to the kitchen and domestic life, she thought as she put the pasta on to boil.
Over the meal they talked about their days, or rather Martin talked about his day, the running programme, the sponsorship - 'Which isn't going too well, you couldn't nudge a few more people at work could you?'
Becca agreed to nudge anyone and everyone. Lily sat heavy-eyed and only managed to eat two forkfuls of food before slipping away upstairs.
'Did you think my parents were happy together?' she said suddenly, interrupting Martin in full flood.
'Er - well, obviously they weren't as they're getting divorced.'
'But before that. When you first met them. What did you think of their marriage back then?'
'I don't think I thought anything. Just, they were your parents.' He shrugged. 'I can't really remember.'
She opened her mouth to start telling him about June's almost-affair, then stopped. It suddenly seemed too close to her own almost-affair with Paul. Instead she said, 'I'd forgotten it's that stupid conference thing this weekend. Had you remembered?'
'Is it this weekend? I know I put it in my diary.'
Becca started to clear the plates. 'I don't want to go.'
'Don't, then.'
'I'll have to, unless I can persuade Crystal or someone to go instead of me. It's a shame. I wanted us to do something as a family, maybe go out for Sunday lunch and have a walk.'
'Another time. I've got to do my first long run this weekend anyway, so maybe it's for the best were not going yomping across the countryside.'
It was all normal, the sort of conversation they had had a million times before, but Martin seemed distant.
Becca touched his shoulder. 'Martin, you do believe me, don't you? About not having an affair with Paul Fitzwilliam.'
He reached up to her. 'Of course,' he said, just a few seconds too late.
- ooo -
'I'll give you a lift to the station,' Martin said on Friday afternoon. He'd made the effort to get home early so he could be with Lily while Becca went to the conference.
'I was going to take the bus,' Becca said. 'You don't want to get caught up in all the traffic.'
'No problem. You're always giving me lifts to the station, so fair's fair.'
'It's greener by bus. Besides, haven't you got running?'
'Yes, but we're running later this evening. Una wanted to get something done beforehand, and I can't let her run on her own in the dark - it might be dangerous.' His voice sounded indulgent. Becca flicked a look towards him.
'I wouldn't want to risk you getting stuck in the traffic and being late for Una.' Her voice sounded sharper than she'd meant. It was natural that Martin was concerned for his running partner, he was that sort of man.
'No, it's quite all right. If we go pretty soonish, I can run you up and be back in plenty of time.'
So that was decided. It meant that she didn't have to go quite as early as she'd thought, had ten minutes in hand. But it only made her feel nervous, as if there was something vital she should have been doing in that ten minutes. It would have been better to go early and wait at the station, rather than have this no-man's-land of time.
Finally the clock ticked past and it was time to go. She hugged and kissed Lily. 'I'll be back on Sunday, with luck by lunchtime, and maybe we can go and do something.'
'Cool,' Lily said. Becca thought she wouldn't mention the idea of the walk. She hugged her again as if it were the last time she'd ever see her.
Becca sat in the passenger seat of Martin's car, staring out of the window. She couldn't shake off the feeling that something was going to go wrong. She'd heard of people getting premonitions about train crashes, or other disasters. Perhaps this was one of them. It felt as if she'd left something behind but she couldn't think what. I should go away more often, she told herself. I'm becoming housebound and neurotic about leaving my family. 'Be nice to Lily,' she said. 'She's having a bit of a rough ride.'
'We'll be fine,' he said, glancing at her before turning back to his driving. 'I thought we could go to the cinema tomorrow - see that film about Jane Austen and have a pizza afterwards.'
'Wow, that is being a good father,' Becca murmured. Martin hated period dramas. She only hoped that Lily would appreciate it. 'I thought you said Jane Austen should be a brand of tampons.'
'Yeah, with the tag line - don't make a drama out of your period.' Another glance to see how she'd taken it.
Becca laughed. 'I hope you enjoy the film, and if not, at least Lily will.' Poor Lily. She looked so pale and unhappy. Damn Kevin for breaking her child's heart.
'Here we are,' Martin said, driving on to the station forecourt. 'You should be in plenty of time for your train.'
Becca clutched the handles of her bag. 'I've changed my mind. I'm not going to go.'
'Darling, why on earth not?'
'I - I - I'm worried about Lily. She's been awfully upset over this boy...'
'Don't be silly, we'll manage. Besides, Bill will be pissed off if you don't go, won't he?' Martin said. He got out of the car and took her overnight bag from the car boot, then opened the passenger door. 'Come on, hurry up, or you'll miss your train.'
She got out of the car, feeling as if fate was conspiring against her. They walked into the foyer and Martin checked the display board. 'Five minutes to go. Perfect timing.'
'You don't have to wait.'
'I'll take your bag up, at least.'
They walked in silence up the stairs to the platform. The station guards checked Becca's ticket, and let Martin through to say goodbye.
'Do you want a tea? A newspaper?'
Becca shook her head. 'Why are you being so nice to me?'
'Aren't I always?' His eyes dropped down. 'I'm sorry. I know you're having a bit of a rough time, what with your mum and everything. Me always out running. That bloody woman phoning.' He sighed. 'You deserve a break. So, off you go, have a nice time talking about Shakespeare or whatever you're going to do and don't think of us. Just enjoy yourself.'
'Martin -'
'Ah - here's the train coming now.' The train pulled in, and they walked to the far end of the platform. Martin opened the train door and put her bag inside. 'Can you manage?'
'It's not heavy,' she said.
He slammed the door shut. The guard whistled, and the train pulled out of the station. Becca watched as Martin standing on the platform became smaller and smaller, and then, as the train eased round a curve, vanished.
- ooo -
The conference was taking place in a large hotel. Becca dropped her bags in her room and quickly rang home to say she'd arrived safely. Lily had sounded a bit droopy, she thought as she freshened up then went downstairs to register. She hoped Lily would be OK.
Downstairs she was directed to a large reception hall. She collected her name badge and a conference pack, and looked at what lay ahead of her that evening: registration drinks, a talk, then the opening dinner. She pinned her badge on to her jacket, took a glass of red wine from a waiter and sat down at a small table to look at the schedule for Saturday. There was a complicated timetable, with most of the hourly slots having an option between four or five speakers so delegates could choose their path throughout the day. She sipped her wine. OK - what would she choose for the nine until ten slot?
Sometimes the choice was easy, sometimes hard. But she carried on ticking the relevant boxes until she came to the last time slot: four to five.
A New Approach to Teaching Shakespeare: Speaker, Paul Fitzwilliam.