Rosalind spent the morning unable to settle to anything as she waited for Paul and Louise to arrive. When she saw his car turning into the drive, she was conscious of a strong desire to flee. She didn’t want to see him. Or Louise. She sighed and remained in the bedroom.
A couple of minutes later, a voice called, ‘Mum! Dad and Louise are here!’
‘I’ll be down in a minute, Jenny. Can you open the front door?’ She’d deliberately left it locked like last time, so that he wouldn’t be able to take her by surprise.
It wasn’t until she heard voices in the hall that Rosalind went downstairs. Paul was so busy ordering Louise to fetch the rest of the luggage in, he wasn’t even looking round for his wife.
Louise tossed a huff in her mother’s direction, then slouched off.
‘I’ll come and help you.’ Jenny pushed her sister out of the door.
Paul gave Rosalind a quick hug. ‘Well, woman, I’m back now for a while.’
‘Good.’ But it didn’t feel good. It felt as if a trap had closed round her. ‘Come and have a coffee.’
Louise came back in, hesitated, then at a nudge from Jenny put the luggage down and went over to hug her mother properly. ‘Fancy us all being here in England together.’
‘Not quite all. Tim’s not here.’
Louise’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I miss him.’
‘Well, you’ve got Jenny and me, so you won’t exactly be lonely.’ To her surprise, Rosalind saw Louise shoot an uncertain glance at her father.
‘We’ll see about that.’
The air was suddenly full of tension.
‘Louise has let us all down,’ Paul said, giving his daughter one of his icy looks, ‘behaved badly to her grandmother, stolen your car and used it, and worst of all, got into drugs.’
For heaven’s sake, Rosalind thought, why is he making such a drama of it? He’s already told me this on the phone.
‘I haven’t decided yet what to do about her, or whether I can even trust her to behave if I leave her here with you.’
Louise looked so unhappy Rosalind went straight across to put her arm round her, feeling the initial stiffness give way to a convulsive hug. ‘Well, until you have decided, I shall be able to enjoy the company of both my daughters.’ While he, no doubt, would be going away within a day or so, even if he did intend to use this as his base from now on.
Oh, Lord, she was doing more talking inside her head than she was with her mouth. She had to stop this.
As they sat and drank coffee, Rosalind realised she and her daughters were all watching Paul and guarding what they said. He was the only one who seemed at ease as he told them about Hong Kong and the project there. ‘The chairman doesn’t hang around when a new man needs selecting.’
Later, he went upstairs to change. When his wife didn’t follow, he called down impatiently, ‘Rosalind? Aren’t you going to come and unpack for me?’
She didn’t really want to be alone with him. Aware of her daughters’ eyes on her, she gathered her strength together for the first minor confrontation. ‘I’m busy down here at the moment. If you stick your dirty clothes in the linen basket, I’ll put a wash on later.’
There was silence from upstairs, no sound of movement, even.
Louise stood up. ‘I – I’d better unpack, too.’ She saw her mother and sister’s surprise. ‘He can get grouchy if you – if—’ She burst into tears.
Rosalind, who had never seen Louise so cowed, went to put her arms round her again. ‘Well, before you do go up, let me say again how lovely it is to see you, even if I don’t approve of what you’ve done.’
Louise stared at her for a moment, eyes wet with tears. ‘I’m glad to see you, too,’ she said in a gruff voice, then glanced upstairs. ‘I’d better go and unpack, though.’
When she’d gone Jenny looked at her mother and whispered, ‘What’s he been doing to make her so meek?’
‘I don’t know.’ And she definitely didn’t like it. Louise had misbehaved, and badly, but it seemed wrong to knock all the spirit out of her. She’d always been such a lively child.
Paul came clumping down the stairs and went to dump some things in ‘his’ office. ‘Not a bad house, really, is it?’ he asked from the kitchen doorway.
Rosalind, who’d been talking quietly to Jenny, broke off and nodded. He turned away again.
‘He always expects us to jump to attention, doesn’t he?’ Jenny asked softly.
‘He does, rather.’ Rosalind heard him go into the living room and her heart started pounding in her chest. She had left her embroideries up on the wall for the first time ever.
‘Ros? Could you come here a moment?’
‘Don’t let him take them down,’ Jenny whispered.
‘I won’t.’ She took a deep breath and walked into the living room. ‘Something wrong?’
‘Why have you brought those?’ he demanded, pointing to the embroideries. ‘You know I hate the damned things.’
‘Since you weren’t here, I decided to please myself. I happen to like having them around.’
He had already unhooked one. She took it from his hand and put it back on the wall. ‘Leave it, Paul.’
‘There were already pictures up, a matching pair, which went well with the décor of this room, so there was no need for this. How did you get them out here so quickly? What did that cost, eh?’
‘I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss about this if they’re so unimportant.’
Their eyes met, held, then a look of scorn came over his face. ‘What do you think people will say if we have those old-fashioned things displayed on the wall? I thought you had a bit more sense than that, Ros, I really did. What you do in your own time is one thing, but what you show the world is quite another ball game.’
‘Apparently I haven’t any sense at all, because I love to have my pictures hanging where I can see them and I don’t care what other people think. I’m the one who lives here, after all.’
‘Well, they’re coming down when people visit. They’re too amateurish.’
Jenny appeared in the doorway. ‘They’re not amateurish at all, Dad. They’re beautiful.’
He turned to glare at her. ‘You can keep out of this, young lady.’
‘I don’t see why. I like looking at them, too, and those prints were trashy. Besides, I don’t think Mum will tell you, but one of her embroideries fetched six hundred and fifty pounds at a charity auction two days ago. There was intense bidding from several people, but a fine art dealer bought it – to sell in his gallery.’
‘You’re making this up.’
‘Why on earth should I?’ Jenny went to put her arm round her mother’s shoulders, feeling the tension there, angry that he’d been so unkind within minutes of arriving. ‘I’m very proud of Mum. And everyone here has admired her embroideries. People did at home, too. There’s only you who doesn’t like them, actually.’
The silence was heavy with menace. ‘Well, I definitely don’t. And I have to live here, too.’
Rosalind intervened. ‘How long are you staying this time, then, Paul? One day? Two? I think you can put up with them for that long.’
‘I’m leaving tomorrow.’ He saw the scorn on her face and snapped, ‘I have to report in, don’t I? I’ve brought our younger daughter down for you to keep an eye on, so I did put family first, contrary to what you accused me of last time. But now I have to go up to London to make a full report to the chairman about Hong Kong.’
Rosalind’s voice was without inflection. ‘Yes. Of course.’
‘But I’ll be spending the weekends down here from now on, so I should have some say in what I have to look at.’
Did he never give up? she thought wearily, wondering if this was worth it. There was a knock on the front door before she could answer him.
‘I’ll get it.’ Jenny was worried about the anger on her father’s face. Why was he being so brutal about her mother’s embroideries? ‘Oh, Mrs Larcombe! How lovely to see you! Won’t you come in? Mum and Dad are in the living room. You haven’t met Dad yet, have you?’
Harry marched forward with her usual aura of energy and purpose to plonk two kisses in the air above her friend’s cheeks. ‘Rosalind! How are you today?’
After the introductions, they sat down to chat while Jenny went to make some coffee.
‘Nice girl, that,’ Harry said. ‘Big help on the skittles.’ She turned to Paul. ‘You must be very proud of your wife.’
‘Must I? Why?’
‘Why, because of those.’ Harry waved one hand towards the wall. ‘Damned fine work. A much smaller one fetched six hundred and fifty pounds at the fête.’
His smile had quite vanished. ‘Amazing. But some folk will buy anything to support a charity.’
Harry stared at him incredulously, then turned to Rosalind as if he hadn’t spoken. ‘I popped round because George Didburin wants to come and see you about your work. He’s interested in representing you. All right if I give him your phone number and address? You do have other pieces for sale, don’t you?’
Happiness surged through Rosalind. ‘Yes. And I’d love to talk to him.’
‘You don’t need to huckster your work around,’ Paul snapped. ‘You’ll have enough on with—’
Harry was not to be deflected. She held up one hand. ‘Just a minute!’ she said, before turning to Rosalind again. ‘Did you mean it about repairing Araminta’s embroidery for us?’
‘Of course I did.’
‘Who’s Araminta?’ demanded Paul. ‘And why can’t she repair her own embroidery? My wife’s not a damned sewing woman!’
Harry guffawed. ‘Araminta’s one of my ancestors, seventeenth century, and your wife offered to repair an embroidery she did then. It’s rather valuable.’ She’d taken an instant dislike to this man, who reminded her of her stockbroker – good at his job, she’d guess, but would tread on anyone to get a profit.
It was with relief that Rosalind showed Harry to the door ten minutes later, because Harry gave as good as she got, was impervious to subtle insults and was quite prepared to be downright rude to Paul.
On the doorstep Harry leant close to Rosalind and whispered, ‘Don’t let that husband of yours put you down!’ Then she winked and raised her voice. ‘George wants to make your embroideries the centrepiece of his next needlework exhibition. So don’t give away any of them from now on – except one to me for next year’s fête, of course.’
Rosalind stood by the door watching her friend stride down the drive, then took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and went back inside the house.
I don’t even want to see Paul, she thought. Guilt shot through her at the memory of Jonathon kissing her, congratulating her, being glad for her. She stopped moving for a moment till it faded. He didn’t bark orders at her and disparage her embroideries.
Paul appeared in the doorway of the sitting room. ‘Ros? For heaven’s sake, are you going to stand out there all day?’
She sighed and went in to continue the battle.
By afternoon Rosalind was near screaming point. Paul was in his office, fiddling with something on his laptop. ‘I – um, think I’ll go out for a walk,’ she told her daughters. ‘Anyone else want to come?’
Louise shook her head. ‘Dad’ll want me to go jogging soon. That’s enough exercise for one day.’
‘You – jogging?’
‘Yes. It’s his idea of rehabilitation.’ Louise started fiddling with the handle of her mug. ‘And I have lost some flabbiness, even in the short time since we started. He hired this personal trainer for me while we were in Hong Kong. I thought she was just – you know, a minder for the naughty girl. But she really was a personal trainer and she taught me all sorts of things. So I might keep the exercising up. See how I go.’
‘You look all right to me, love. You’ve definitely lost weight, however you did it.’
‘Oh, Mum, I’m just thin. I don’t have any tone. And,’ she blushed, ‘I lost the weight because I wasn’t eating. I was – you know, taking these amphetamine pills. They were wonderful. You didn’t feel at all hungry and you were simply bursting with energy – but I wasn’t seriously into drugs, whatever Dad says! I was just – you know, trying things out. Pot isn’t a hard drug. Everyone smokes it. It ought to be legalised. It’s no worse than alcohol.’
‘So they say. I’m not so sure. They wouldn’t ban it for nothing.’ Sadness gripped Rosalind suddenly. ‘Tim used to smoke it, too, didn’t he? Then he went on to worse things.’
‘I suppose so.’ There was silence, then Louise looked over her shoulder and asked in a low voice, ‘You haven’t heard from him, have you? I mean, I know he wouldn’t contact Dad, but I hoped he might have at least written you a card. Just to let you know he’s OK and all that.’
‘I haven’t heard a thing since that last postcard, which you saw.’
‘Are you worried about him?’
‘Very. I worry about you all. But Tim – well, he could be dead and I,’ her voice broke, ‘I wouldn’t even know it.’
Louise was near tears. ‘He isn’t! He can’t be!’
There was silence, then Rosalind said, ‘I must get out while I can.’ She went to find Jenny, who was reading a book in the conservatory. ‘Do you want to come for a walk, love?’
‘Not just now, thanks. Ned said he might ring.’ Jenny didn’t want to get heavy with anyone, but it’d be nice to have a date or two.
‘I’ll go on my own, then.’
Paul came in. ‘Go where?’
‘Out for a walk. And to pick up a couple of things at the shops.’
‘It’s going to rain. Take the car.’
She was always surprised at how little he used his own feet. Oh, he trained in the gym. And jogged. Religiously. But he rarely walked anywhere for the pleasure of it. She didn’t take the car but picked up her umbrella instead. And when the rain got heavy she went to sit in the little café in the village.
Jonathon came in and saw her gazing sightlessly through the rain-streaked window. It seemed like the answer to a prayer to him. He’d been wondering how to contact her.
She saw him and her sad expression lightened as she gestured to the seat next to her.
Beaming, he hurried across. ‘On your own?’
‘Yes. I’m the only real walker in the family. When it started to rain, I took shelter here.’
‘Mind if I join you for a cuppa?’
‘I’d love it.’ She realised her voice had been too warm and looked down at the table, saying more temperately, ‘Please do.’
When his pot of tea and chocolate cupcakes had arrived they sat in silence, then he said, ‘I miss you dreadfully, Rosalind.’ He didn’t look at her, just stirred his tea round and round.
She couldn’t be less than honest with him. ‘I miss you, too.’
Another silence. ‘Harry says you’re going to repair Araminta’s picture for us.’
‘Yes. I’d really like to do that. Perhaps you could bring it round to the house sometime?’
‘Or you could come and get it?’
‘You must be sick of people invading your house. Harry said the horse charabanc was full every trip on the day of the fête.’
‘I enjoy having people round, actually. It can get very lonely with the boys away. And I left showing folk round to Mrs Durden-Jones, who runs the local historical society. She knows nearly as much about the place as we Destans do, but she puts it across better and handles the groups better, too.’ He leant forward and said conspiratorially, ‘I’m a failure at handling crowds, actually. I’m too soft with them.’
She sighed. ‘I’ve been too soft with everyone, I think.’
‘How’s it going? Now your husband’s home, I mean. How’s it really going?’
A shrug was the only answer and seeing the distress on her face he started talking about the fête instead, telling her how pleased Harry was about the takings, which looked like creating a record.
As they were parting Rosalind said, ‘I miss you so much, Jonathon dear.’ Then, as if terrified by what she had said, she turned and rushed off.
He wished he had the right to follow her.