GILES DROVE CAREFULLY ALONG the A303, his eyes on the tailgate of Tessa’s car. From the back window Sidney watched him mournfully, cocking his head occasionally when Tessa spoke to him but turning back again to watch Giles in the car behind. He had made a great hit with Sidney. Giles felt a tiny surge of triumph and elation as he remembered Tessa’s greeting. She had been waiting for him, the front door open the moment he pulled in outside the gate, hurrying down the path with Sidney at her heels. She had hesitated momentarily and then flung herself into his arms.
‘Oh, Giles, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.’
He had held her without fuss, taking no advantage of this warm greeting, merely comforting her.
‘It’s a beastly thing to have happened,’ he said. Still holding her in one arm, he bent to pat Sidney who was sniffing cautiously at his jeans.
‘That’s Sidney.’ Tessa released herself, ashamed of her outburst. ‘He’s feeling it a bit. He’s one of these dogs who can’t cope with a bad atmosphere. The other family came and took Harry and there was a bit of drama, obviously. The poor woman is completely gob-smacked by it all.’
By this time they were inside the cottage. Tessa took him into the kitchen and began to heat some soup, already prepared and waiting in a saucepan on the electric cooker. Giles looked about him and sat down by the table. Immediately Sidney came to sit beside him, head on Giles’s knee.
‘He slobbers a lot,’ warned Tessa.
She sounded more cheerful now and Giles looked at her, taking in her leggings and big sweatshirt and rumpled hair. She’d smiled at him and his heart had crashed about in his breast making him feel breathless. He bent down to stroke Sidney’s head, hiding his expression. He was determined to abide by his plan.
‘I don’t mind a bit of slobber, do I, old chap?’ he’d asked. ‘Used to that with Felix, aren’t I?’
‘He’s even worse,’ said Tessa, taking relief in light chatter. ‘His mouth is so loose and soft. But he’s a sweetie, if somewhat neurotic.’
‘So tell me all about it.’ Giles rested an elbow on the table, his feelings for her under control. ‘Mr Rainbird told me a bit but I’m not exactly sure what’s happened.’
Whilst she explained, serving up the soup and taking hot rolls out of the oven, he watched her intently and presently they sat down together to eat their supper.
Now, as he drove behind her, he marvelled at the strangeness of his feelings. All his life he had been diffident, cautious of change, wary of any alteration to the status quo. He knew that it was a fault in him, to be so unwilling to commit himself, and it worried him as much as it worried his mother. He knew that Kate suffered on his behalf; encouraging and pushing him, yet fearful lest she should be misjudging him. He also knew that she blamed herself for the problems that he had inherited from her unhappy marriage.
He had told her that, from his point of view, the divorce was far from being responsible for his dilatory and unconfident character; on the contrary, he had been relieved when his parents had parted and especially when his father, Mark Webster, had emigrated to Canada when he had not gained his promotion in the Navy. From his earliest days his father’s inconsistent approach—now indifferent, now stern and bitingly sarcastic—had unsettled Giles and he was always much happier when Mark returned to sea. Guy, his twin, had been able to cope better and had tried to protect Giles from tongue-lashings and
other subtle psychological forms of cruelty when they had visited their father after the divorce. Guy had been more successful in his dealings with Mark and had done his best to stand between his father and his twin.
Giles wondered how he would have coped without the steady kindness of his uncle Chris, his mother’s brother, and, later, David Porteous. Seeing David with Kate had restored some of Giles’s confidence in the married state but the thought of committing himself to a long-term relationship still filled him with anxiety. He had seen, both with his parents and with his friends, how extraordinarily fragile these structures were. He thought of the responsibility involved and felt a faintness of heart. This, he told himself, was nothing to do with his dilatoriness. It was simply a fear that he would be unable to sustain what was required when the time came.
He was old enough to realise that, once you became a husband or a father, expectations followed close behind. Your wife and children made demands, had requirements, and how were you suddenly to know the right answers? Being a husband or a father did not automatically invest you with knowledge, patience, understanding. Supposing you were unable to supply these quite reasonable demands? If you could not, then you let down your wife and children—and what then?
When his father was Giles’s present age, he and Guy had been seven years old. Giles shuddered at the thought. Would he be able to deal with a seven-year-old son? He wondered whether his father’s behaviour had been a mask for his own inadequacies; his weakness and fear had taken the form of verbal bullying and psychological arm-twisting. Might not he—his father’s son and the recipient of his genes—react in the same way with his own children? He had read that abused children often became abusers and he felt horrified at the idea of being cruel in his turn to a vulnerable child.
He had been amazed when Guy—more like Mark and less social than Giles—had married Gemma Wivenhoe. That Guy, who found
most women a bore, should marry the light-hearted Gemma—who was, moreover, nearly nine years younger-had come as a shock.
‘What happened?’ he’d asked his twin bluntly. ‘Gemma’s a sweet kid but you’ve known her all your life. Why suddenly?’
‘Probably because I’ve known her all my life,’ replied Guy honestly. ‘I feel safe with her. We know each other. Or, more to the point, she knows me. She knows how to deal with me.’
It was typical that he hadn’t mentioned the word ‘love’. Giles could see, however, that Gemma adored his brother.
‘How does she do it?’ he’d asked Kate later. ‘She teases him and makes fun of him and simply won’t let him bark and bite. What’s even more amazing, I don’t think he wants to!’
Kate had laughed, shaking her head. ‘She’s just like her mum,’ she’d answered. ‘Cass is so good-natured that it’s almost impossible to be grumpy when you’re with her. You forgive her anything. Gemma’s just the same. Guy is very lucky but, thank God, he knows it and he’s working at it, too. He’ll need to. He’s very like Mark. So like him that sometimes I feel ill with terror. I couldn’t bear it if he were to hurt Gemma.’
It was then that Giles had told her how he felt about himself and marriage; that his indecisiveness was something apart from a natural fear of committing himself to another human being. She had remained silent for some time.
‘I think it is part of the same thing,’ she’d said at last. ‘Sorry, Giles, but you can’t separate them. They’re part of the same instinctive anxiety. Your natural urge to dither merely underlines your fear of letting people down. I understand and I sympathise but you must try to overcome it. Your reluctance to commit yourself is a really negative trait. You’ll miss out on so much. OK, so you’ll get things wrong. So do we all. You will hurt and be hurt. It’s life. It can be painful but it’s better than never living at all.’
‘But you say you feel guilty because you got it wrong,’ he’d argued.
‘It’s you who say that your mistakes have affected our lives, too. Supposing I turn out like Dad and repeat the pattern all over again?’
‘Oh, Giles, I know.’ She had looked at him with compassion and remorse. ‘It’s just that you’re not much like Mark and, more importantly, you’re aware of your weaknesses and attempt to overcome them. I just hope that when the moment comes it’ll sweep you along and you’ll forget all these misgivings.’
Giles put a Gerry Mulligan cassette in the car tape deck and listened to the mellow notes of the saxophone. Kate had been right. When Tessa had told him of her engagement to Sebastian all his doubt and caution had been swept away. He knew quite surely that he loved her and that he was going to make a fight for her. He knew, too, that this must be a calm, quiet, determined fight—but he had a strange conviction that he was going to win it.
TESSA, PEERING IN HER mirror, checked to see that Giles was still behind her. His quiet strength had been exactly what she needed and she felt grateful.
‘I’ll drive behind you,’ he’d said firmly, ‘then you can set the pace and stop when you want to have a cup of coffee or if you feel tired. Don’t worry. You won’t lose me.’
Nor had she. Every time she overtook a vehicle or a car pulled out directly behind her, she would glance anxiously in the mirror until she saw Giles’s little hatchback closing up behind her. Sidney watched, too. He had been drawn to Giles’s calm approach, a pleasant change after the tension of the previous few days, and he wanted to keep him in sight.
‘He’s nice, isn’t he, Sid?’ said Tessa. Sidney’s ears cocked at the sound of her voice but he continued to stare out of the back window. ‘I really like him,’ said Tessa thoughtfully. ‘I feel like I’ve known him for ever but there’s something about him …’
Her voice tailed away. She was remembering with faint embarrassment how she had rushed into his arms. He had taken it all very
naturally—and she had been able to regain her composure quite quickly—but she was surprised at the strange conflict of emotion which she had felt in that moment when he had held her closely. The old confusion was back. Why had she not thought of telephoning Sebastian? Because, said an inner voice, he wouldn’t have really wanted to be bothered with it all. Tessa felt the need to come to Sebastian’s defence. He had been brought up in a service family and was used to seeing his mother cope with all kinds of disasters. The Navy couldn’t let its men go on leave each time there was some small domestic crisis or there would be no fighting force left. She knew that she must learn to manage alone and that it was not Sebastian’s fault that he could not be on hand every time she felt emotional.
She brooded on this, her respect for naval wives increasing. What a lonely life it must be. Suddenly she remembered something Kate had said to her when she was talking about her divorce from Mark Webster.
‘The Navy taught me to live without my husband,’ she’d said, ‘and then I found I could. It’s like giving something up for Lent and then discovering that you don’t need it any more.’
Tessa could understand that and, after all, it was no lonelier a life than the one she was leading. She felt an affinity with Mathilda who had lived so contentedly by herself in the cove. No doubt she had known loneliness but she had learned at some point that it was better to be alone than to live with the wrong person. Tessa felt a deep satisfaction at the knowledge that Mathilda, Will, Bea and she, Tessa, shared the same great-great-grandfather. No doubt they also shared similar character traits. Bea had managed quite happily, unmarried, and Will seemed quite ready to move to the relative isolation of the cove. All three of them recognised something familiar in the others; they were family.
Tessa slowed a little to allow Giles to catch up. She tried to see Sebastian fitting in at the cove once they were married and frowned. He had been very polite to Will and Bea but there had been something missing.
‘Nice old things,’ he’d said, as they drove away up the track with Will waving goodbye on the beach. ‘And Isobel’s OK. Let’s hope she moves on soon and then we can have the cottage when I’m on leave. Can’t imagine us bouncing about in bed with that old biddy in the next room. You can tell she was a matron. She’s got all the hallmarks. I’d probably be impotent at the mere thought!’
Tessa had tried to laugh with him but she’d felt hurt and upset. Bea and Will were her people and she hated it when he laughed at them. On the other hand, it was exactly as he talked about his own parents. Perhaps, because it was so long since she’d had a family of her own, she was being oversensitive. Tessa felt the now-familiar confusion. She knew that he was right and that it would be quite impossible to make love with Bea in the next room; but she had never contemplated such a thing taking place until they were married, any more than she would have considered sharing Sebastian’s bedroom at the Andersons’. She tried to be reasonable but simply remained confused. This was what she had longed for and dreamed about for so many years but there was something not quite right somewhere.
She glanced at her mirror. Giles was driving easily arms relaxed, head on one side. He looked as though he might be listening to music. She knew instinctively that he would not mock Will or Bea, nor suggest that he and she make love in the house in the cove. She felt quite hot at the thought of making love with Giles and experienced a sudden sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. At that moment she feared that she had got things terribly muddled.
‘Surely,’ she said aloud—and Sidney turned to look at her—‘surely I’m just being silly and over-emotional? Oh God! Don’t let me have got it wrong.’
She bit her lip, driving a little slower now as she tried to sort things out. Could her childhood passion for Sebastian have blinded her? Had she been so infatuated with him that she had never bothered to consider whether they were truly suited? She realised that she was slowing right down and looked quickly in her mirror. Giles flashed his
headlights at her and gave her a little wave. She waved back, knowing a desire to burst into tears. His friendly caring gesture confirmed her terrors. She had got herself engaged to the wrong man. She remembered how delighted Mrs Anderson had been, how she’d hugged Tessa and said how thrilled she was to have her as a proper daughter at last. She thought of how Rachel, her oldest friend, had shrieked her joy down the telephone. She recalled the kindnesses of all the Andersons over the last ten years when she had been so lonely and unhappy. Tessa stared miserably at the road before her. She had become engaged to the wrong man and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She could never hurt the Andersons after all that they had done for her; without them she would not even have her job.
She was aware that Giles was flashing his headlights at her and pointing ahead where the bright and cheerful sign of a Happy Eater café glowed. Tessa understood what he was trying to tell her and pressed her indicator. She guessed that he had read her slowing down as a sign of weariness and was suggesting that it was time for a break. Gratefully she pulled into the car park and began to reverse into a space by some grass. Sidney whined anxiously.
‘Shut up, Sid,’ she said automatically. ‘Don’t fuss. I’m just about to give you a run.’
Somehow the familiar action of opening the tailgate and freeing Sidney had the effect of calming her and she was able to greet Giles with a smile.
‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘I was getting a bit tired.’
‘I thought you might be,’ he said as they strolled behind Sidney. ‘You must be exhausted after all the traumas. Shall I go and order some coffee?’
‘I suppose …’ she began reluctantly, not wanting him to go, willing him to remain with her. ‘If you … Yes, why not?’
‘It’ll save a bit of time,’ he said, pretending not to notice her hesitation. ‘Don’t want to hurry Sidney. See you in a moment.’
He disappeared through the swing door and Tessa felt a moment of despair. She longed for him to put his arms round her, kiss her, tell her he loved her. Instead he was behaving as though he were a very nice elder brother.
‘What else can he do?’ she asked herself drearily. ‘Oh shit, hell, damn.’
Giles watched her from the window, longing to rush out and seize her but knowing that he must hold back: his moment had not yet come. He pulled the cups closer and began to pour coffee for them both.