Marj had seen the pain in Lucy’s eyes when she talked about Hartley. Lucy had thought the world of him. Knowing that he believed she had set up the photographer was tearing her apart.
After her weekend in London, Marj had Monday to herself while the girls went to work, then she caught a train to Dundee. She found getting the train a real treat; six hours of reading newspapers and books and watching the beautiful countryside whizz by was bliss.
Marj had done a little research on Hartley on the girls’ computer in the flat. Google. Such a wonderful invention. She had written the address for the Balmyle Foundation in her Filofax and planned her tube journey there.
She remembered Lucy telling her how Hartley spent Mondays at the Foundation, planning the week ahead.
Marj was a great believer in looking your best at all times. While other mums had encouraged their daughters to cover up and lay off the make-up, she had told Lucy and Max there was no shame in making the most of what you had. A little bit of lipstick could transform a tired face; a bright little dress was so much more cheerful and feminine than a baggy jumper. Now more than ever, Marj was of the belief that life was for living and making the most of what you had.
She wore a jade-green cashmere V-necked jumper and black-linen trousers from the Per Una range at M&S and Russell and Bromley tan-leather loafers. There was no point tottering up and down those huge tube escalators in perilous heels, after all. They matched her lovely Prada bag, which Lucy had given her last year.
A designer had gifted it to her as a ‘thank you’ for a piece she had written about their new collection. Lucy had more than enough bags, she told her mum. Marj hadn’t banked on the reaction her new accessory would get on her yoga night out – the girls had touched and admired it as though it was a celebrity. Nowhere sold Prada in Dundee.
Money had been tight when the girls were young. Fergal was a proud man and insisted Peter’s money was for Lucy’s education but that he would provide for their family. And he had. He had worked hard to build a reputation as a reliable and talented carpenter, working for a medium-sized local firm in his twenties before setting up on his own. Marj had put her all into keeping the books and marketing the company. Now Summers Carpentry was an established name in Dundee. They had a workshop in the west end of the city just off the Perth Road, showcasing the beautiful wooden furniture he had lovingly carved. And he employed a small team of workers to take on jobs – from carving tables and chairs for a new quirky restaurant to commissions from the council.
All that hard work had paid off. More importantly, the Summers family were as close as ever.
Marj’s hair was newly washed and fell naturally round her heart-shaped face. She wore a little make-up – Stila tinted moisturizer, a lick of mascara, a hint of cream blush and a light plummy lip gloss.
‘Hello, I wonder if you can help. I am interested in donating money to the Foundation.’ At Hartley’s offices just off the Kings Road, Marj addressed the young receptionist brightly.
The girl had a trendy lopsided fringe; her hair was coloured purple, her nails neon green.
‘Of course,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘Would you mind taking a seat?’
Marj smiled and sat on one of two pink sofas. She took in the beautiful smell of the white lilies that were speckled with pink, fully open and spilling out of a huge vase. She picked up a brochure and recognized one of the faces on the front as the receptionist’s, although she had orange hair in the picture.
Shona, 19, came to the Foundation 18 months ago seeking help for her drug addiction, which had led her to a life of crime. After successfully completing a rehab programme she has been clean for over a year and now works here at the Foundation.
Marj looked up and saw Hartley in front of her, smiling and offering his hand. She recognized him from her Google search.
‘Hello, I’m Hartley,’ he said pleasantly. Not announcing his title or surname, Marj considered, said a great deal about Hartley.
‘Hello, Hartley. I’m Marj. Very pleased to meet you too.’ She smiled back at him.
‘Please, let me show you through to my office,’ Hartley said, holding open a door at the side of the reception area.
Marj sat opposite Hartley on a soft dark-green leather armchair. The room was small and welcoming, the scent of a large bunch of red roses filling the air.
‘So, Shona tells me you have been thinking about getting involved with the Foundation. That’s wonderful news. Can I get you a tea, or coffee, perhaps?’
Marj couldn’t help but like Hartley. He was incredibly well spoken, almost comically. He seemed so open and warm.
‘Oh no, I’m fine, thank you.’
He smiled back at Marj as a silence descended upon them, neither sure how to continue. To think that just a few days ago she had been Googling Hartley’s name to find his Foundation’s address. And now she was sitting here in front of him. She just had to tell Hartley the truth. He might think she was a meddling mother, but it was a chance she was willing to take. She was here for Lucy.
‘So, how did you hear about the Foundation?’
‘My daughter.’
‘Oh really? Has she worked with us? I know most of the people involved here. What’s her name?’
‘Hartley, my daughter is Lucy Summers.’