‘Where are you taking me, Ted?’
‘It’s a surprise.’
Ted held the door for Wendy while she fastened her coat. The air was fresh, but both of them were prepared for it. She wore a hat and she’d applied her make-up carefully. Her handbag matched her silk scarf, which she tightened round her throat.
‘Ready?’ he asked. She nodded.
Ted had turned into a kind man. Not that he ever hadn’t been, but some men hardened with age and regret, while others, like John, fell ill and became impenetrably cantankerous. Ted, though, had mellowed and matured. The lines round his eyes were soft, and the portals they framed were twinkly and bright. His speech was as deliberate as his hands, and he was even more of a gentleman than before. The night they’d met, at the fountain on the earl’s estate, he’d shown the same qualities, but then they had been accompanied by a cheeky wickedness. They’d been attracted to one another straight away, and it had scared her. She’d never strayed from John, and never thought she would. It was only when she was presented with an opportunity so delicious that she even contemplated it.
She hadn’t set out to hurt anyone, least of all her husband; it wasn’t like that at all. To Wendy, the fact that John had never noticed the change in her spoke a thousand words. Guilt wasn’t something she’d felt until she’d faced her daughter, and even then it was momentary, and she’d prepared to be unapologetic should Kelly challenge her morally. To Wendy’s surprise, she hadn’t. Despite being childless, Kelly was wiser than she’d allowed for, and she felt sad about that. Wendy always figured that Kelly would do her growing up when she had a family of her own, but that had never come, and now, even if it did, she was unlikely to see it. The drugs could only keep her alive for so long.
She had read about miracle cures for cancer in magazines. In Florida, a woman had eaten plates of steaming broccoli and cured her breast cancer. In Russia, bread products made by hand with local wheat had cured a man’s bowel cancer. In Canada, a woman had cured her leukaemia by only consuming raw milk. The list was as endless as it was extraordinary. Wendy had no time to dedicate to such quackery; she was ready to be off, and she was determined to enjoy herself until her time came. She’d lasted much longer than anyone had predicted. Her initial prognosis had given her six months, something she’d kept from her daughter. Then she’d started the trials. That was over a year ago. Her body ached more these days, and she was on a break from drugs, letting nature take its course. The deterioration had begun almost straight away, but it was her choice and hers alone; she hadn’t discussed it with the girls.
When Ted had turned up out of the blue, and Kelly had found out the truth, Wendy had known this day would arrive. Kelly was her father’s daughter all right: her analytical brain, her desire to seek answers, her unshakeable belief in herself; and those kind eyes, full of naughtiness. She felt a twinge of shame when she thought about John, the man who’d brought up her daughters. But she’d said sorry enough. Neither of them had been saints; goodness, if they were courting nowadays, they’d both be caught red-handed on those iPhones that were everywhere.
She felt sorry for the youngsters now; they were imprisoned by their screens. What made it worse was that they used them for their work, and then they came home and used them for their rest. There was no escape; it was madness. She wouldn’t miss it. The accountant had been and sorted her affairs. John had done most of it anyway, and nothing much had changed since he’d gone, only the amount that was left. The girls would have the house. They’d no doubt disagree over what to do with it, but that, thankfully, would no longer be her concern.
Ted held her elbow as they crunched through the snow. The sky was blue, the air crisp. There was no better place to be in the world than the Lakes on a day like today. The mountains glowed in the distance and Wendy wished she was a climber. She never had been, but that wasn’t the point. She’d started dreaming about lots of pastimes that she’d never get to try.
Ted helped her into his car. It was very smart indeed. He kept it clean and tidy, and she liked that. Kelly could learn a thing or two from him; her car was a disgrace. He got her settled, then went to his own side and climbed in. He turned to her and smiled. Life was a funny old thing. No one could predict what might be around the next bend. She smiled back.
He drove towards Keswick, and she thought he might be taking her to a nice café, or perhaps a pub with a roaring fire. The main road was clear, but piles of snow were stacked high at each side. The mountains, as they drew closer, looked majestic, and all of their millions of years old.
He drove through Keswick and on down the east coast of Derwent Water. Cat Bells looked inviting and gentle, and Wendy wanted to dive into the lake. They’d swum in Ullswater, off the shore of Wasdale Hall’s grounds, drunk and frivolous. Everybody did it, and without phones, no one was self-conscious or worried. Wendy had stripped to her bra and knickers, but she might as well have thrown them off too, since soaking wet they were see-through anyhow.
‘Remember swimming in Ullswater, Ted? At midnight?’
‘Good heavens, that’s brought back memories! I don’t think I could manage that any more,’ he joked.
‘We’d be on the front page of the Daily Mail now, you know. It was scandalous.’
‘Yes, I suppose you’re right. The youngsters think we didn’t know how to live, or have fun.’
‘I wanted to talk to you about that, Ted.’
‘Hmm?’ He concentrated on his driving.
‘What we got up to.’
He gripped the steering wheel. ‘I haven’t forgotten, Wendy. I just wish I could have made you my wife.’
His words came as a surprise. She’d never felt like a floozy, or used in any way, but she hadn’t thought about the flip side either.
‘Kelly has been asking certain questions.’
‘About what?’
‘Us.’
‘Well that makes sense. She has been rather tetchy lately. Do you think she minds?’
‘No, not at all. That’s not what I meant, Ted.’
He negotiated a milk tanker in the road ahead and they came to the Lodore Falls. He pulled off and parked at the hotel.
‘Oh lovely! I haven’t been here in years.’
‘We’re booked in for lunch.’
Ted got out and went to Wendy’s door to help her out of the car. He was still strong, and she leant on him.
The foyer was warm and there was a well-tended fire in the bar. The smell of food and Christmas spices was intoxicating, and Wendy decided that she’d have a drink before dropping her bombshell on Ted. She ordered a sherry, and they were escorted to their table, which overlooked the lake. The sun shone into the dining room and Wendy was reminded of another meal she’d had in an expensive hotel, with Kelly. Father and daughter had the same certainty, the same self-possession when in company: nothing fazed them. Nikki was different. John’s daughter was more reserved in company and hesitant about her place in the world, not convinced of her path. Kelly had built her own path, as had this man before her.
She sipped her sherry and perused the menu. It was thankfully simple. Her tolerance of food was intermittent lately. She prayed that her digestive system stood the test today. She didn’t want to embarrass Ted. She wished to be dignified to the end, and if she wasn’t, she’d make sure that he didn’t see her.
‘What takes your fancy, Wendy?’
‘I’m thinking the chicken, it sounds lovely.’
‘Starter?’
‘No, that’s too much; I think I’d pop.’
Ted ordered, then reached across to take her hand.
Maybe she’d wait until after they’d eaten, she thought. She chastised herself. She’d promised Kelly that she’d do this; in fact, she’d insisted. Kelly had been more than willing to give Ted the news herself, but that wasn’t right. It was Wendy’s job. What happened next was up to them. She wouldn’t be here. She couldn’t wait.
‘The reason I mentioned Kelly is that I need to tell you something.’
‘I’m listening.’ He sipped his pint.
‘She’s your daughter, Ted.’
He didn’t react in any of the ways she’d been prepared for. She’d imagined herself alone, phoning a taxi, being called a liar; she’d seen raised voices and histrionics. But none of those things happened. He was about as calm as anyone could be; she should have known. She saw Kelly in him when he looked at her and cocked his head slightly, thinking about the perfect question to ask but testing it in his brain before presenting it to the world.
‘I did wonder,’ was all he said. He didn’t question it or doubt it. Wendy’s hand shook slightly as she drained her sherry and asked for another.
‘Did you?’
He nodded. ‘Does Kelly know?’
‘Yes, that’s why I’m telling you.’
‘How did she take it?’
Wendy looked at him. She could see that he cared for Kelly. He really wanted her to be receptive to the news. He looked like a man who’d been given a second chance; or at least hoped for it. Her throat tightened.
They’d be all right.
‘She wants to see you.’