TOM SAT BY THE drawing-room fire, his bandaged ankle resting on a footstool, and wondered what had happened to Saul. He was feeling a little less touchy than he had been on his return, which had been humiliating to say the least. After his denigrating observations regarding Saul’s abilities, it was too embarrassing that it had to be he, rather than his son, brought home on a tractor having sprained his ankle. Tom felt a measure of irritation returning as he recalled his reception. The tractor driver had driven up the drive and jumped down from the cab to press the front doorbell before going back to help Tom out of the link box. Cass and Abby had opened the door brandishing, respectively, a poker and a shotgun and had dissolved into fits of giggles when they saw Tom with his arm round Dave’s neck. Unfortunately, Tom had left his boot, together with his walking stick, in William’s Land Rover and had been obliged to hop, supported by Dave, into the house.
The two women, taking over from Dave, helped him into the drawing room where they deposited him in an armchair. Cass went in search of bandages whilst Abby, still giggling, sloshed large quantities of gin—and an infinitesimal spot of tonic—into a glass which she pressed into his hand.
‘Drink up,’ she urged. ‘You’ve got lots of catching up to do. Cass and I were too frightened to move so we’ve just been sitting here getting pissed. I’ve lost William, you see, so I came down here for company and now I’m too scared to go back. Oliver’s gone to leave a note for William to tell him where I am. He’s been gone for hours.’
So whilst Cass bandaged his ankle, Tom explained what had happened and where William was and, shortly after, William arrived and took Abby away, leaving the others to worry about Saul.
Tom, still smarting from the unseemly levity and unguarded and unflattering remarks surrounding his homecoming, was half inclined to get his own back by hinting at accidents and disasters of numerous varieties to increase Cass’s anxiety. However, having survived variously the traumas of the death of her eldest child, three children away at school and a husband almost continually at sea, Cass was hardened to minor disasters and not easily stampeded into panic. She was still concerned for Polly but didn’t seriously consider Saul to be in any great danger from the prisoner and more than capable of looking after himself in any other situation that might arise. She had gone off, accompanied by wafts of gin, to cook some supper, giving thanks for the Aga yet again, and Oliver had disappeared on a candle hunt.
Tom sat on, nursing his glass and wondering if Saul had found a telephone and where he could be. Despite his occasional antagonism to both his sons, he dearly loved them. However, they could never take the place of the daughter he’d lost. Charlotte—who had looked so like himself, who had loved him so much—would always take first place in his affections. The dead have advantages over the living. Their faults are forgotten or bathed in an attractive light and they do not irritate and annoy us. Tom imagined a pretty, loving, attentive daughter, surrounded by admiring men but looking always to him first. She would not have tested and challenged him as the boys did. As for Gemma, she had always been so self-contained, so poised for her age, that he was almost frightened of her. Blonde and beautiful like Cass, she had never shown a need of him as Charlotte had. His life was saddened and diminished by her death and he suddenly felt old and tired.
He glanced out of the window. The short winter day, brighter now with gleams of golden light from the west, was drawing in, Tom thought of Saul alone on the moor in the dark and grimaced. No, best not to frighten Cass who, when the effect of the gin had worn off, might realise the dangers for herself. He stirred uneasily. Where the devil could he be?
SAUL WAS SITTING IN the armchair by the Aga waiting for his fate to be decided. The euphoria of his journey, the excitement of catching the prisoner and the sweetness of Polly’s admiration and gratitude were all beginning to fade in the face of pain and exhaustion. Michael, having noticed this, was firm in his decision that Saul should come with him back to the hospital. He could be checked over, stay the night there and, if all was well, be taken home the next day. Michael’s real dilemma was whether to take Polly and Hugh to Kate’s, leaving Jon in situ, or to leave all three of them at the cottage. While he was debating, Polly thought of another problem.
‘What about Cass?’ she asked. ‘She’ll be worried to death if she doesn’t hear from Saul. How can we let her know?’
‘Oh, hell,’ said Michael. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. How on earth can we get a message to them? Even if their telephone is back on, ours isn’t. We could try from the hospital, I suppose.’
‘Yes, but if Cass’s isn’t back on, what would you do then?’ asked Chris. ‘One of us will have to try to get over there.’
‘I’ll have a go, if you like,’ said Freddie, wondering what Polly would be doing. ‘Should manage it in the old beast but I must admit it would be nice to have someone with me, just in case.’
‘I’ll come,’ offered Saul.
‘You most certainly will not!’ said Michael, whose dilemma had now been solved. ‘You’re coming with me. OK. What I suggest is this. Freddie and Jon go off to Cass’s and, if Freddie has no objection, Jon goes back to his place for tonight. Saul, Hugh and Polly come with Chris and me. We drop them off with Kate while Chris and I get my car out of the snow and then Saul and I go on to the hospital. I’ll come back to you tonight, Chris, when I’ve settled Saul and seen Harriet, and tomorrow—well, we’ll sort tomorrow out when it comes. How does that suit everybody?’
Everyone nodded. Polly was so relieved at not having to spend another night at the cottage alone with Hugh that she would have agreed to almost anything and she went off to pack for Hugh and herself. She would have to come back for her car, of course, but she would worry about that later. She went round finding all the presents that Harriet had hidden for Hugh and packing them up to take with them. By the time she got back to the kitchen, Freddie and Jon had already set off and the others were ready to go.
Michael checked round, locked up, and the five of them and the dogs went out of the cottage and into the snowy winter evening.
TWO DAYS LATER, POLLY removed herself to the Old Station House. Weather conditions had improved and Hugh was now back in Michael’s care. Kate had been very kind and Polly had found her a soothing companion after such a traumatic experience. She had allowed Polly to go over and over the horror of the last few days and had comforted and consoled her. However, as soon as the telephones were working again, Thea had tracked Polly down and urged her to come to stay and Polly felt that she needed to be with someone who knew her whole situation and to whom she could open her heart about Paul. Thea was horrified to hear of all that Polly had been through. They went over it again and again until, at last, it began to recede from the forefront of Polly’s mind and she could sleep without nightmares.
‘It would have been worse if I’d known he was a murderer,’ she told Thea as they sat before the fire one evening with Amelia tucked up in bed and George, who was back at the MOD, in London. ‘As it was, I just thought he was Michael’s cousin and that he was a bit odd. The spade thing was truly terrifying but by the time I found out he was a murderer, it was all over.’
‘Well, it is all over,’ said Thea, who felt that Polly should begin to put it all behind her and look to the future. ‘And now you’ve got to decide what you’re going to do. I still think it’s awful of Paul just to go off like that. Unbelievable.’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ said Polly.
‘You don’t feel that you want to make a fight of it?’
Polly reflected for a moment and then shook her head. ‘I don’t see the point. I’ve always come a poor second and, since Fiona came on the scene, I seem to have moved down to third. It’s partly my fault. I don’t seem to have the energy to make a stand. We’ve just drifted along and I can’t blame him if he wants to stop drifting. I’ve envied you and George. Your relationship is so strong and secure.’
‘Well, I hope you’re right.’ Thea came to sit beside Polly on the sofa. ‘It’s going to need to be.’
Polly raised her eyebrows and Thea made a little face. ‘It’s this Brussels thing. I don’t want to go. I haven’t told George yet. He just assumes that Amelia and I are going but I hate the idea. I can’t bear the idea of leaving Jessie and Percy and this house and I feel so ashamed when I see people like Cass taking this sort of thing in her stride.’ ’Well, of course, she’s been doing it for so long, hasn’t she?’ ‘Yes, but she had to start. I just assumed that I’d never have to do all the moving around because George was so much older.’
Polly looked at Thea. She had always seemed so strong and confident and Polly was surprised to see her uncertain and afraid.
‘What about your writing?’
Thea shrugged. ‘George says I can do that anywhere and of course he’s right. But I don’t want to do it anywhere. I want to do it here.’
‘How will he react if you say you don’t want to go?’
‘He’ll be very hurt.’ Thea stared at the fire. ‘The thing is,’ she said slowly, ‘I’ve got a very good excuse but it’s a bit cheating to use it.’
‘Whatever can it be?’ Polly stared at Thea’s sombre profile.
‘I’m pregnant.’ Thea turned her head and smiled at her.
‘Thea!’
‘I know.’ Thea nodded, smiling. ‘And the thing is that George is the sort of man who would understand that a woman in that state likes to be amongst her own people. Especially when I had such a bad time with Amelia. And he would let me stay and go on his own, although he would worry like mad about me.’
‘Yes, I see.’ Polly sighed. ‘Oh, dear.’
‘Yes.’ Thea sighed, too, and then pulled herself together. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to be selfish. I’ve got everything going for me and all I do is whine because I may have to go and live in Brussels. Most people would be thrilled.’
‘If it was just Percy and Jessie, I could look after them,’ said Polly thoughtfully. ‘After all, if Paul and I separate the house will be sold, I suppose. I could come and house-sit for you, then you wouldn’t have to let it and you could come home towards the end of your pregnancy and have the baby here. I’m sure George would understand that. It’s a compromise.’
Thea gazed at her with such intensity that Polly felt nervous.
‘Polly, you’re brilliant! Would you really do that? It wouldn’t be nearly so bad if I thought you were here and I could come home when I wanted to. I hate the idea of letting it and we couldn’t leave it empty for two years. I could fly over for the odd weekend and Percy and Jessie wouldn’t have to go to strangers. Oh, Polly! Would you really?’
‘Well,’ said Polly, taken aback by Thea’s reaction, ‘I don’t see why not. I’ve got to live somewhere and I’m very fond of Jessie and Percy.’
‘Bless you. Oh, you’ve no idea how you’ve relieved my mind. I can come home to have the baby and decide if I need to go back out afterwards. Oh, it would be too wonderful for words. I think I need a drink. Stay there. I’ll go and open a bottle of wine.’
Polly sat on, staring at the fire and feeling as if she’d unleashed a whirlwind. It seemed her new role was to be whisked from pillar to post with no time or thought for her own life. She had hardly expected Thea to leap at her idle proposition so readily and felt stirrings of panic. What on earth was she doing, offering to look after a large Newfoundland dog and a garrulous parrot in the depths of the country? She thought of being here alone and the panic threatened to become terror. Not that the Old Station House was as isolated as Lower Barton, being on the edge of a village, but nevertheless . . . Thea was back with bottle and glasses and accompanied by Jessie, who immediately collapsed into a deep slumber before the fire.
‘You can’t imagine what a weight you’ve lifted from my mind,’ said Thea, kneeling beside Polly and pouring wine. ‘Here you are. Now you’re absolutely sure that you mean it? You have thought it through?’
Polly looked into Thea’s radiant face and her heart sank. ‘Oh, yes,’ she lied bravely. ‘It’s the answer for me, too. I couldn’t bear to go home and sit and wait for everything to collapse around me. Much better for me to be here being useful.’
‘Bless you.’ Thea stood the bottle on the floor. ‘I’ll go and phone George in a minute and tell him. He’s been getting so cross with me because I should have been getting the house let and so on.’ She let out an enormous sigh of relief and raised her glass. ‘Here’s to us. Let’s hope that things work out right for both of us.’
Polly raised her glass and drank. Life was becoming much too complicated and she simply didn’t trust her voice.
A few days later she returned home. She felt that by this time Paul would have come to some conclusion and might be kind enough to share it with her. She was in the kitchen before she realised that there were signs of habitation and before she could take it in, she heard the key in the door and Paul came in.
‘So you’re back at last,’ he said. ‘Had a good time? I was beginning to worry but Suzy said that you’d gone off to stay with a friend and the weather’s been so awful that I wondered if you’d got snowed in.’
Polly stared at him in amazement and after a moment he raised his eyebrows at her silence and went to fill the kettle.
‘What’s wrong?’ he said when she continued to stare at him. ‘You look half-witted. Where have you been?’
‘Where have you been? That’s more to the point, surely,’ she burst out at last. ‘When did you come back?’
‘As soon as the weather cleared. All flights out of Edinburgh were cancelled for a few days.’
‘Edinburgh?’
‘I told you in my note,’ he said impatiently. ‘Fiona was giving her paper there and then we heard that someone else was giving a paper on the same thing. I know there’s no point in going into details because you won’t be interested but it was important that 1 was there to give her moral support. As it happens it all went very well but when I knew that we were going to be delayed 1 tried to phone and got no reply.’
Dazed, Polly watched him make coffee. ‘You said in your note that you’d gone off with Fiona.’
‘Well, so I did. I’ve just told you. D’you want some coffee?’
Polly shook her head. ‘I thought you meant really gone. Left me. For Fiona.’
Paul fiddled with the sugar spoon, his back turned to her. ‘Why should you think that?’
‘Because it’s true,’ said Polly slowly. ‘Oh, perhaps I read the note wrong but instinctively I got it right. You have left me for Fiona, haven’t you? You may live here with me but you love her and you’ve slept with her, haven’t you?’
Paul kept his back turned and made a great business of pouring the milk. Polly watched him. She was filled with a huge, overwhelming sadness. There was simply nothing left of the young Polly or the Paul who had been charmed by her. The tiny flame had flickered and gone out and there was barely a trace of smoke to mark its passing. She watched him deciding how to parry her question and felt quite suddenly impatient, almost angry. She wondered how he would react if she described the events of the past few days and knew that she couldn’t be bothered to tell him. He simply wouldn’t be interested.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘I know vou have and it really doesn’t matter. I was a fool not to see it before. I’ve been living half a life and I’m not going to do it any longer.’
He turned now to look at her and she regarded him dispassionately.
‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘You left me ages ago,’ she said. ‘The note simply confirmed it, underlined it. Made me really think about it. I’m going to Thea’s to house-sit for a while. She and George are going to Brussels and I’m going to look after Jessie and Percy. I’d like to keep some of my things and you’ll have to continue to support me for a bit until I get my act together. But you’ll probably think that it’s worth it to get rid of me.’
A variety of emotions passed across Paul’s face: relief, shame and something else which could have been annoyance.
Perhaps he wanted to be the one to pull the rug, thought Polly. He’s annoyed that I’ve pipped him to the post and wrong-footed him.
‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit drastic?’ he asked.
‘Am I?’ Polly raised her eyebrows. ‘What do you suggest? The mixture as before? Me sitting here like a lemon while you have it off with Fiona at the lab?’
Paul assumed an expression of distaste and Polly smiled. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Is that a bit too crude for the finer emotions that you share with her? Well, too bad. Or are you insisting that your relationship with her is purely a platonic one and all you share with her is a microscope?’ She nodded at his silence. ‘Quite. Well, that’s it, isn’t it? We’ll have to decide whether we want to sell the house or whether you intend to move Fiona into it and buy me out.’
Paul stirred uneasily. ‘I don’t think that anything should be decided in a hurry,’ he said. ‘Since you’ve brought it up, I agree that our relationship has been a rather empty one for some time now. Obviously I shall continue to support you and if you’ve arranged to go to your friends I shall probably go on living here for the time being. You’d better take the car'—Polly bowed ironically-’and anything that you particularly value. Naturally I shall consult you before I take any definite steps.’
‘Naturally.’ Polly nodded. ‘In that case, I shall go back to Thea’s tomorrow, taking as much as I can, and if I want to come back to fetch anything I shall phone first. We’ll sort the furniture out at some later date.’
‘Very well.’ Paul hesitated. ‘I’m sorry,’ he began and paused.
‘Forget it. What about tonight?’
‘I’ll disappear,’ he said quickly. ‘Best thing all round I should think. I’ll go and pack a bag.’
He went out and Polly turned and walked over to the sink. She poured the untouched coffee into the sink and then stared at her reflection in the window.
He didn’t even notice my hair, she thought.
A spasm of pain caught at her heart and, with a sharp movement, she leaned forward and dragged the curtains together against the winter’s night.