Rosalind picked up the phone. ‘Yes?’
The voice was hesitant. ‘Mum? Is that you?’
‘Jenny! How nice to speak to you.’ Rosalind glanced at the clock. She was meeting Harry in five minutes and they were going to have coffee with the organisers of the auction. Why did people always ring up for a chat when you were in a hurry?
‘Mum – oh, Mum, I’m in England, at the bus station in Poole. Can you come and pick me up?’
‘In Poole! Jenny, what have you done?’
There was the sound of sobbing at the other end. ‘It’s not what you think, Mum. I – please can you pick me up? I’ll tell you about it then.’
‘Yes, of course. Where did you say you were?’ But although she would be glad to see Jenny, Rosalind’s heart sank.
She cancelled everything, programmed the satnav and drove into Poole. Her anger vanished as she hugged her daughter and saw how haunted and jumpy Jenny was looking, not to mention how much weight she had lost. ‘What’s wrong? Have you been ill?’
‘Not exactly. I’ll – explain later.’
Jenny picked up her big suitcase and Rosalind took the piece of cabin luggage out of her hand.
‘That one’s got some of your embroideries in, Mum. I had the rest shipped out – these two may be a bit crumpled, but they’re safe, at least.’
Why should things not be safe? What had been going on in Perth? Rosalind looked sideways at her daughter, not attempting to start the car. ‘Tell me.’
Jenny’s face crumpled. ‘It’s Michael. He’s been – oh, Mum, he’s been stalking me. He kept phoning at all hours. I couldn’t get a proper night’s sleep unless I unplugged the phone. And then he broke into my flat and trashed everything. I’ve been terrified. If your neighbours hadn’t turned up when I was getting those embroideries for you, he’d have raped me.’ And every time she thought about that, she wanted to curl up into a ball and scream herself into oblivion.
Rosalind felt horror trickle through her as she took Jenny in her arms, shushing her and patting her back as she had done when her daughter was a child. Now, Jenny was five foot nine and a woman grown, but she needed holding just as much as the child had.
When the tears had subsided and Jenny had blown her nose several times, they looked at one another.
‘You aren’t – angry with me, Mum?’
‘Only with Michael. But how did you get the money for your fare, love?’ If it was from her mother, it’d have to be paid back at once. Rosalind knew Audrey had very little to spare.
Jenny gave a hiccupy laugh as she explained about her timely win. ‘I took the money and ran, Mum. Fled for my life. I was terrified. I thought – no, I knew he was going to kill me if I stayed in Perth.’
‘Kill you?’
Jenny nodded. ‘The policeman said he was a sicko.’ She explained about the underwear laid out on the bed, the knife and mock blood.
Horror kept Rosalind silent for a moment. ‘You did the right thing, then. But Jenny, if you’d rung and explained what was happening, I’d have sent you the money for your fare earlier.’
‘I thought of that, but Dad didn’t want any of us to come here with you. He’d have persuaded you not to help me – or arranged something else. Only you see,’ her voice quavered, ‘I needed you. Do you mind very much?’ She reached across to take her mother’s hand.
‘I don’t mind at all, not now I understand.’ Rosalind squeezed the fingers that were quivering against hers. ‘And your father doesn’t dictate everything I do.’
Her voice was so quiet and sure Jenny stared at her in surprise. ‘He usually tells you – well, he tells us all what to do.’
Rosalind stared down blindly at the steering wheel. ‘I’ve let him do that in the past, to my shame. But he won’t be giving me quite so many orders from now on – or at least, if he does, I won’t be obeying them.’
‘You sound different.’
‘Yes. I think I am. We can talk about that later, though. We’re both shivering, so let me get you home. The countryside round here is gorgeous. There’s nothing like pretty scenery for soothing the savage breast.’
When they got to Burraford, Rosalind settled Jenny in front of the fire with a big mug of coffee and tried to ring Paul, breaking her normal rule of not disturbing him when he was working on a project. But although it would be the middle of the night in Hong Kong, he wasn’t in his room, and the hotel receptionist said he was away for the weekend. Which seemed very strange. He didn’t usually take holidays when he was working on a project. ‘I’d like to leave a message, then. And tell him it’s extremely urgent …’
That evening Jonathon decided to ring Rosalind simply because he wanted to talk to her. Another few days and his sons would be here, and after that her husband would be back. Oh, hell, he didn’t want this interlude to end, this brief idyll when they’d forged a friendship and fallen in love.
‘Hello?’
He smiled at the way her voice always sounded as breathy and uncertain as a young girl’s. ‘It’s me, Rosalind. Do you fancy going to the pub for a drink?’
‘I can’t, I’m afraid. My daughter’s just arrived from Australia. Jenny, the eldest. She’s been having trouble with an ex-boyfriend.’ She lowered her voice, ‘He’s been stalking her and she’s very upset.’
‘Anything I can do to help?’
‘Not really.’
‘I shall miss you.’ He didn’t have to spell it out that her daughter’s arrival meant their closeness had ended sooner than they’d both expected.
‘Yes. I shall, too.’ She didn’t dare talk more openly to him. She had done nothing to be ashamed of – nothing but fall in love, that truthful little voice said inside her head – but even their public friendship would have to be lower-key now. And perhaps that was a good thing. Though it didn’t feel like a good thing.
When he had put the phone down, Jonathon poured himself a whisky, then went to pace up and down the long gallery upstairs as he did sometimes when he was upset. The creaking floorboards suited his mood today, as did the frayed hangings and worn carpets.
At first he was angry that the daughter had come, then he got annoyed with himself because stalking was a very serious matter and any mother worth her salt would naturally drop everything to look after that daughter in those circumstances. But the thought of not being with Rosalind hurt even more than he had anticipated.
‘Oh, sod them all,’ he told the last bit of amber liquid in his glass, ‘I’ve never had any luck with women.’
Well, at least the boys were coming down the following weekend. That was something to look forward to. And he’d get Harry to invite him, Rosalind and the daughter round for coffee. He had to see his lovely, gentle darling sometimes, to make sure she was all right, at least. He poured the rest of the whisky down in a gulp and went to refill his glass.
Not even his divorce had made him feel this bad emotionally, because by then all affection between himself and Isabel had been gone and he’d only been left with anger at her rapaciousness – and relief at being rid of her.
The house creaked and shifted around him and the ghosts of his ancestors rustled past, as they always seemed to do when he was alone in this room. Thin, spindly people like him and Harry, with sad narrow faces. He never quite knew whether he was imagining them or whether they really did gather round him, but they felt real enough. And certainly, when this mood came upon him, Dusty grew uneasy, whining and twitching at the shadows. But dogs were like that. They could sense your mood – and perhaps see your family ghosts. He looked down at the furry face and wagging tail. Dogs didn’t pretend. They gave their love wholeheartedly and unconditionally. As he’d like to give his.
For once, he drew no comfort from the sense of solid continuity to Gilles D’Estaing, who had carved out his own territory in the conquered foreign land of England, or to the many ancestors who had allowed their name to be twisted into a more English sound. He raised the glass, drinking a silent toast to Araminta Destang, his favourite ancestor, who had saved the estate from destruction during the Civil War. ‘Paul Destan!’ he toasted next. The poor fellow had lost an arm at Waterloo, but had gone on to sire four sons. And had made the final name change.
Jonathon went to look for some more whisky, opened his reserve bottle and drank to Rosalind’s health, trying to ignore the tears trickling down his face. Who said men didn’t cry? He’d cried when the court awarded custody of his sons to Isabel. And he was crying now.
How was Rosalind feeling? Was she missing him? Would she weep into her pillow tonight?
In Australia Paul Stevenson paced up and down the hall of his own house. Louise was in bed after a very unpleasant day, having cried herself to a complete standstill as he and Audrey went through her room with a fine toothcomb, exposing the evidence of her peccadilloes, which were not as bad, thank goodness, as he had feared. Though he hadn’t said that to her. No, he had acted as if she were ripe for the gallows and he the hangman, while she wept and sobbed and promised him whatever he demanded.
‘Take out that bloody nose ring for a start!’ he’d roared, and when she’d done so, he’d tossed it into the rubbish bin.
And while he ranted on at Louise, Audrey had sat and watched, tight-lipped. He hoped she was upset behind that stoical mask. She should be. She’d failed lamentably and she knew it, the silly old bat. But at least she hadn’t wept on him as his daughter had.
God, how he hated snivelling women! And although Louise had promised faithfully not to misbehave any more, he wasn’t going to leave her in Australia. You couldn’t trust seventeen-year-olds to live on their own. You needed to watch them all the time.
His two youngest had taught him that, by God they had, and he didn’t intend to fail with Louise as he had with Tim. She was going to grow tougher and she was going to do well in life. He hated other people boasting about how successful their grown-up children were, hated being unable to match tales with them. Hated most of all the thought that his children had grown into fools and wastrels.
For the first time he wondered if Ros had been right and it had been unwise to take her away at precisely this time in Louise’s development. Then he shrugged. It was essential to his career that his wife loosen her ties to Perth. That had to come first. Perhaps he should have let Louise come to England with them, then? On reflection, he supposed so – and would have done if he’d known all the facts. But he hadn’t really wanted a teenage daughter hanging around. He still didn’t.
Hell, he was horny tonight. Solving a crisis always had that effect on him. And Liz was only a few hundred yards away. He listened. Not a sound. Louise had been so exhausted she’d barely made it up the stairs before tumbling into bed. Maybe he could arrange something? He could sneak out to Liz’s place if Bill was at one of his meetings – or he could meet her in the garage here so they could screw themselves silly on the old couch. Worth trying. He always thought better when he wasn’t in lust.
He went into his home office and picked up the phone.
Louise, who’d been lying in bed pretending to be asleep and worrying about what her father intended to do with her, heard the sound of the phone and sat up. Who was Dad phoning at this time of night? If he was planning to dump her on someone else, she wanted to know about it.
She crept into her parents’ bedroom and picked up the receiver carefully. She’d listened in a few times from here. The phone system was in excellent order because her father had brought the company back several times to fix things like echoes on the line or clicks from other extensions. As long as you didn’t make a noise and put down the receiver after the other person, no one knew you were listening in.
Her father’s voice. ‘Liz?’
Louise frowned. What was her father phoning her up for? Liz was her mother’s friend and he didn’t get on all that well with her.
‘Paul?’
‘Who else?’
‘I thought we’d agreed not to get in touch.’
‘I’m here in Perth.’
A hiss of indrawn breath.
‘Any chance of seeing you?’
‘No.’
‘Liz, baby, we’re good together. You know we are.’
Louise listened, stunned. Her father’s voice had gone all warm and smarmy, the way it did when he was charming someone. But this was Liz he was talking to, her mother’s friend, and from what he’d said …
‘Surely we can seize an odd moment or two to satisfy our mutual needs? You said Bill was a second-rater in bed. You said you were never satisfied with him. I think you were quite satisfied with my performance, though.’ He chuckled softly.
Louise wrinkled her nostrils in disgust. How gross, to screw her mother’s best friend! And he called what she’d done bad!
‘I thought I made it plain that I don’t want to continue the affair. The last thing I want to do is hurt Rosalind. I must have gone crazy in Hong Kong, but I’m not crazy any more. It’s over. Finito.’ Her voice softened for a moment. ‘It was great, it really was, but it’s finished. Enjoy your life.’ She put the phone down without waiting for an answer.
From below, Louise heard the sound of a phone slamming down, set the handpiece gently in its cradle and hurried into her bedroom, lying with her back to the door so that her face was hidden. Who’d ever have thought it? Liz and her father! Oh, wow! Wait till Tim hears about this.
She sighed, remembering that he wasn’t here any more. She did miss her brother. The two of them had always been close. They were both into Living – with a capital L. Jenny was a wimp and Mum a doormat. A nice doormat, but she still let everyone tread on her. Though actually Dad was a lot kinder to her than to anyone else, so he must have some feelings for her – if not enough to stay faithful.
When she heard footsteps in the stairwell, Louise closed her eyes and started breathing slowly and evenly. He came in to check, of course. He’d said he would and he always did as he’d threatened. He’d told her that if she so much as put her nose outside the house without his permission, she wouldn’t get back inside again. A shiver ran down her spine. He meant it, too. Indignation followed the shiver. Who was he to preach at her when he’d been cheating on her mother? Probably for years.
Tim had hinted at that sort of thing before, said he’d seen Dad out with a young chick once in Sydney, but she hadn’t believed him. She did now. Oh, she wished her brother were here to talk to! He was the only one who understood her.
And she wished she knew what her father was going to do with her. The thought of him tossing her out, so that she had to get a dead-end job and manage on her own, definitely did not appeal. Why should she anyway, when her father was rich? Well, comfortable. So OK, she’d have to toe the line for a bit and that didn’t really appeal, either.
Those oldies forgot what it was like to be young and full of energy. Well, she was full of energy when she took those pills, but how the hell was she going to manage without them now? She’d lost a lot of weight and she looked good. She’d kill herself if she got fat again. Nobody loved you when you were fat.
A tear trickled down her cheek, followed by another. If only Mum was here. Dad was never as bad when Mum was around.
The following morning Paul woke Louise at six, dragging her from the bed, having had an idea about how he could start the new regime. ‘Come on! I’m going running and so are you. I want you where I can keep an eye on you.’
‘Running! But I – Dad, stop! Hey, I don’t do things like that.’
His smile made her shiver. ‘You don’t think I’m going to leave you alone in the house, do you, Louise? You must think I’m a fool.’
‘But I haven’t had any breakfast!’ She hadn’t eaten anything at all yesterday and she was hollow inside.
‘You don’t get breakfast until afterwards. One exercises on an empty stomach. Hurry up, or I’ll drag you outside in your pyjamas. You’ll need shorts and a T-shirt – and wear some joggers that aren’t simply a fashion statement.’
His expression was so grim she hurried, slumping down breathlessly in her seat as he drove them down to Cottesloe beach. He’d put her mother’s car away and brought out his own. Normally she loved riding in its luxury. It was used so rarely, it was like new. While he’d been away, she’d even toyed with the idea of borrowing it and taking it for a spin, but hadn’t quite dared.
She shivered. A light rain had begun to fall and it was chilly. Well, it was autumn now, after all. ‘Can’t I just stay in the car and watch?’
‘Certainly not. I thought young women liked to keep themselves fit and trim. You’re always worrying about putting on weight. Maybe this is the answer. Those pills certainly aren’t.’
‘I’ve kept my weight down without any of this exercise crap.’
His gaze was as chill and assessing as a meat inspector looking at a carcase. ‘You’re thin, yes, but grossly unfit.’ He gave her upper arm a squeeze and pulled a face at its lack of muscle tone, then slapped her thigh. ‘Flabby! To look good, flesh needs to be firm.’ He got out of the car. ‘Come on! I’m going to run up and down the beach where I can keep an eye on you and if I see you stop moving, you’re in deep trouble. You can do a hundred yards running and a hundred yards walking until I tell you to stop. That’s how beginners start training.’
Anger burned in her, but she kept her mouth closed and did as ordered. She’d watched Tim blurt out defiance and get nowhere with it. Her bastard of a father always had all the answers. At first she did run, thinking she might as well get some benefit from this, but soon her feet felt like lead, an iron band settled round her chest and she could only stagger along. But every time she looked along the beach she could see him staring at her, so she didn’t stop moving.
When he came jogging over to see why she’d slowed down, he looked fit and energetic for all he was nearly fifty, and she could see a couple of young women giving him the eye. She was panting and puffing, was soaked to the skin, felt like death warmed up, and no doubt looked it, too. She hated him – hated him!
‘You’re in worse condition than I thought. All right, I’ll make it a short session today. It’s nearly breakfast time. We’ll go home and shower, then we’ll find a café. There’s nothing to eat at home. It’s very different without your mother’s efficient organisation, but it’s no use stocking up!’
Louise brightened. This was more like it. She loved having breakfast in a café.
But when they got there, he ordered for her – fresh fruit salad and a low-fat muffin – not even asking what she wanted.
‘Couldn’t we have croissants?’ she begged, trying to make her voice as girlie-soft as she could.
‘Full of grease and calories. You are about to get fit, young lady, really fit.’
He didn’t even look up from his newspaper as he spoke.
Louise sat there, fuming inside but not daring to interrupt him. She was so hungry she ate the bloody muffin and picked up the crumbs from her plate with a dampened fingertip.
When he’d read the paper from cover to cover, he leant back and studied her. She hated it when he did that. You could never outstare him.
‘I’ve decided to take you to Hong Kong with me, then on to England. Since I can’t trust you on your own here, I’ll find a cramming school for you in England.’
Her initial surge of joy turned into leaden horror. ‘A school! But I’ve left school.’
‘You obviously left it too soon, before you were mature enough.’
‘But I’m not going to be in England long enough to do any proper studying.’
‘And did you do any proper studying here? Your exam results were pretty pitiful. I had to pull a few strings to get you on that course, you know.’
She slumped down in her chair glaring at him. ‘But I’ve started the course here now.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll arrange a deferral. Or find you somewhere else to study. You do need some qualifications, I agree.’
They drove home in silence, then she went up to sit in her bedroom while he made phone call after phone call. At first she stood behind her bedroom door and listened to his voice floating up the stairs. Hell, he certainly ordered people around! After a while, she grew tired of business talk, put on some music and turned it up loud, trying to lose herself in the beat.
She nearly jumped out of her skin when he erupted into the bedroom and switched the CD player off. ‘No music. Get a book and come downstairs where I can keep an eye on you.’
‘What do you think I’m going to do, climb out of my window?’
He slapped her face, leaving her speechless with shock … and fear.
‘I don’t think you’ve quite realised, Louise, how angry I am. Or how little latitude you have. Now, find yourself a book – no, not a rubbishy spy novel, something worth reading – and come downstairs. We’ll be leaving Perth tomorrow. You can spend this afternoon packing. We’ll pick up the rest of your stuff from your grandmother’s later on.’
‘I’ve never been to Hong Kong,’ she ventured after sitting for a while staring at the travel book he’d provided, a dull thing on ancient temples in Indonesia. Her mother had used something from it for an embroidery. It had looked good, too. ‘What is there to see? What shall I pack?’
‘This won’t be a tourist visit. We’ll be going on from there within a few days to England, so pack for the English spring. A bit like our winter.’
She huffed one shoulder and pretended to read. Stupid pictures of Asians in silly costumes. Who cared about such things?
Paul turned back to his own book, but his mind was on other things. He’d have to find her a minder for the next few days while he tied up the loose ends at the Hong Kong branch. Still, that should be quite easy in a place where labour was cheap. He smiled grimly. She was in for a few shocks, one way or another, his darling little daughter was. All his family were.
He was about to take charge properly. Should have done it years ago, should have insisted on Ros moving to New York or London. Well, better late than never.
Rosalind examined the embroideries Jenny had brought and pressed them carefully. They hadn’t suffered any damage, thank goodness. She invited Harry round to choose one – and couldn’t resist inviting Jonathon, too, feeling guilty but looking forward so much to seeing him and spending a little time in his company.
Jenny hardly left her side all day. ‘I’m sorry to hover – I’m a bit nervous still. It hasn’t got through to my emotions yet that I’m safe. Do you mind?’
‘Not at all. I’ll try to ring your father again.’
When she didn’t get Paul, she tried her mother and what Audrey had to tell her made her feel quite sick with shock.
Jenny, who had been watching, waiting to have a quick word with Gran, came up and put an arm round her mother as she put down the phone and stared around blankly. ‘What’s the matter? Mum! Talk to me, please, Mum!’
Rosalind let Jenny help her to a chair because her legs had turned to rubber. ‘Did you know Louise was misbehaving?’
‘I knew she wasn’t studying much. And that she’d got in with a strange crowd.’
‘You should have told me.’
‘It’s a bit hard for one sister to tell tales on another. I did talk to her, try to make her see sense, but you know what Louise is like.’
‘She’s been using my car, as well. Told your grandmother I’d given her permission.’
‘And,’ Rosalind had to take a deep breath even to get the dreadful admission out, ‘your grandmother says she’s been on drugs. Drugs! At seventeen!’ And sex, too – her mother had found condoms in Louise’s drawers. ‘I told your father she was too young to leave on her own.’
‘Too immature, you mean. She’s like Tim, greedy for life. Take, take, take.’ Jenny was still worried about her mother’s pallor. ‘You can’t babysit her for ever, Mum. She has to go out and face the world sometime, even if she mucks things up. It’s the only way she’ll learn. Shall I make you a coffee?’
Rosalind stared at her blindly, without answering. When the doorbell rang, she didn’t even seem to hear it, just continued to stare into space and pleat the material of her skirt.
Jenny went to open it and found herself facing two strangers, both very tall and bony, obviously related. ‘You must be Jonathon and Harry Destan.’
‘Yes, we are. And you’re Jenny.’ The woman smiled at her. ‘You look so like your mother.’
‘Yes, I suppose I do. Look, come in. I’m afraid Mother’s just had a bit of a shock.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Harry nudged her brother as she spoke because he looked as if he was about to rush off to find Rosalind. Luckily Jenny was gazing towards the kitchen not at her visitors.
‘Not – news about your brother?’ Harry enquired. They both knew how worried Rosalind was about her son.
‘No. Mum phoned Gran and found out that my younger sister has gone off the rails a bit and my father’s had to fly down to sort things out.’ Jenny led the way into the family area near the kitchen. Her mother was still sitting there, but when she saw the visitors she stood up and tried to remember her duties as hostess.
‘Harry, Jonathon. Do come and sit down. I’ll – um, get you some coffee and—’ She stopped and shook her head saying hoarsely, ‘I’m sorry. It’s not a good time just now. Could you come back tomorrow?’
Only when they’d gone did it occur to Rosalind that if Paul was in Perth he’d probably be at home. Even before the front door had closed on her visitors, she was picking up the phone. ‘Paul! Oh, thank goodness I’ve caught you. How’s Louise?’
‘Subdued. Look, I’ll tell you all about it when I get back. It’s not the sort of thing to discuss on the phone.’
She had to know. ‘Mum said drugs – and sex.’
‘Yes to both.’
‘Oh, Paul.’
‘I’m dealing with it, Ros, all right?’ His voice was impatient. ‘Louise and I are flying out to Hong Kong together tomorrow. I’ll keep her with me there and bring her back to England next week.’
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’
‘There’s another call on the line, Ros—’
She grew angry at his patronising tone. ‘Let them wait.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m afraid I have some other news. Jenny’s here in Dorset with me.’
‘Jenny! What the hell is she doing there? Has she lost her job? My God, what have I ever done to deserve such stupid, useless children?’
Rosalind thumped the kitchen surface and shouted down the phone, ‘For once, just shut up and listen, Paul. Jenny’s ex-boyfriend has been stalking her. She’s been in danger and terrified. He tried to rape her, then he broke into her flat and trashed it.’
Silence, then, ‘Did she call in the police?’
‘Yes, of course. They haven’t been able to prove anything, so they said it was better she get away for a while. He must be deranged judging by what he did. They reckon he is, anyway.’
‘That’s all I need! How did she get the money to fly to England? Did you send it her or did Audrey lend it her?’
‘Neither. She won it on a scratchie.’
‘She what? She should have stayed there and faced him out.’
‘Are you mad?’ She explained the exact state of Jenny’s bed and the carving knife.
‘Then he’s definitely crazy. I told you he was a no-hoper. And you say the police can do nothing?’
‘Nothing. Michael has set up an alibi. She says he’s cunning.’
‘He was never clever enough to impress me. Well, it looks like we’ll all be playing Happy Families in England for a while, Ros. You should enjoy that, at least. So much for a second honeymoon.’
She ignored the gratuitous sarcasm. And she would not, she knew, enjoy having Louise around. Or even Jenny at the moment, when she was discovering so much about herself. She’d just settled into a quiet happy routine and – oh, face it, she was missing Jonathon’s company already. ‘Do you, um, want to speak to Jenny?’
‘Yes, of course I do. I’ll get the details and see if there’s anything I can do to help the police.’ He had a few contacts. Or no, maybe he’d pay someone to watch that sick bastard full time. He wasn’t having anyone thinking they could get away with stalking his daughter.
She passed the phone to Jenny, who was standing nearby looking apprehensive.
‘I’m not going back!’ Jenny hissed as she took the phone.
‘Of course not.’
‘Hello, Dad – yes, well, I—’ She rolled her eyes at her mother.
Rosalind patted her daughter’s shoulder in encouragement, then wandered out into the back garden. The grass was damp and looked very green. The next-door garden was full of trees, some with fat buds on them, nearly ready to burst into leaf, but there were only two trees here, cropped to within an inch of their lives, standing stiffly on guard at each rear corner of a square of manicured lawn which had a foot-wide flower bed all round the fence edge. Daffodils alternated with aubrietia with ruthless geometric precision, courtesy of a fortnightly gardener, who didn’t like ‘meddling’ by tenants. She really missed having her own garden.
When she went back inside, Jenny was sitting in a corner, looking upset. ‘How was I to have known Michael would turn out like this? Honestly, Dad is the most unreasonable man I’ve ever met! It’s never his fault if things go wrong, and he doesn’t have any sympathy for anyone else’s troubles. You’d think I’d encouraged Michael to stalk me just to annoy Dad.’
She jerked to her feet. ‘I think I’ll go for a walk into the village.’ She was desperate for some fresh air and she’d be quite safe here. She had to keep reminding herself of that, reminding herself to get on with her life. ‘Do you want anything from the shops?’
‘Yes, I do, actually …’
When her daughter had left, Rosalind went up to her workroom and took out the embroidery of the family. She picked up the sketch pad and began to rough out her own figure, with a few glances in the mirror. Vulnerable, submissive, too soft for her own good. She was beginning to see that now. Could she show it all in her embroidery? She didn’t know, but she was certainly going to try.
When she’d cut out the paper figure, she studied herself in the mirror. Her face was more determined than the one in the sketch – but that was now. This picture was going to show how she and her family had been for all those years. If she embroidered it, she’d understand it all better. She didn’t know why, but she would. Placing the paper figure next to Paul on the embroidery, she studied the effect. Heavens, that was so like him, the best figure she had ever done. She was startled every time she looked at it.
After a minute, she frowned and moved her own figure, settling it eventually at the far left side of the embroidery. Yes. That was where she belonged. Not next to him. Not together. They hadn’t really been together for quite a while. She could see that now, as well. And she’d do herself in pastel colours, to contrast with the bold dark colours of Paul. She looked down at herself. Why did she always choose such faded colours?
She’d been far too accommodating with him. Jenny was right. He wasn’t at all reasonable.
After another thoughtful pause, Rosalind sighed. Neither were her children, not even Jenny. Had she been a bad mother, brought them up wrongly? She’d loved them all, done her very best for them, but – she had to admit it, though it hurt like hell – her love and care hadn’t been enough. Tim and Louise had both gone off the tracks, and Jenny – she gasped in horror as she realised it – Jenny had followed in her own footsteps, going out with a dominating man.
Well, everything was going to change. For both herself and Jenny. She’d think of her own needs as well as theirs from now on, and never, ever again would she fall in with others’ wishes if they felt wrong for her.
A sad smile curved her lips for a moment – Change of season, Paul had said about this trip. She’d not been able to get that phrase out of her thoughts. Change of every bloody thing, it seemed to her.
He wasn’t going to like some of the changes, but that didn’t make any difference. They had happened now, were still happening and evolving. No one could turn the clock back.
She didn’t even want to try.