‘I’m not going back to Australia yet,’ Jenny decided as they sat in the pub. She looked at Ned. ‘You want me to stay here, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do. You can come and live with my family.’
‘I don’t think I’d better. I—’
He took hold of her hand, kissed it, then kissed her cheek for good measure. ‘You’ve seen how happy all this is making my mother. She’s been itching for me to get married. Besides, we’ve tons of room at home. You must definitely come and stay with us while you and I look for a house of our own. We’ll get married as soon as we can. None of this fancy wedding fuss. It’s you I want.’
Louise excused herself and went to the ladies’.
Jenny didn’t notice her sister’s departure, but sat smiling at the thought of having her own home, her own life. With him. Then it occurred to her that she’d be completely dependent on Ned and that thought didn’t please her quite so much. ‘There’ll be formalities to go through. I’m an Australian citizen. And I’d like to find myself a job, though not as a trainee manager.’
‘Fine, we’ll go through the formalities together. No one will turn a gorgeous girl like you down. And if you want a job, I’ll help you hunt for one.’ He raised his glass and drank a silent toast to her. ‘Though you could come and work in the gallery, if you wanted. It’s hard to get part-time staff. Mum comes in sometimes when we’re busy. You might enjoy it.’
She frowned. ‘Is this a pretend job, or a real one?’
‘It’s as real as you care to make it, love. Up to you.’
Her face brightened. ‘Then I accept. I always used to like art at school and I’d love to learn about antiques.’
Louise came back and sat down, smiling at them both. ‘It makes me feel there’s hope in the world, seeing you two looking all smoochy.’ Her smile faded and she stared down into her lemon, lime and bitters. ‘I’m underage, though, and he still has power over me.’
‘Only for a few weeks then you’ll be eighteen,’ Jenny said consolingly. ‘At that age you’re technically an adult – I think.’
‘Yeah, but what do you live on, whether they call you an adult or not?’
‘Mum has some money now.’
‘I suppose so. Do you think she’d mind supporting me for a bit till I find my feet?’
‘I think she’d love to.’
Louise began to look thoughtful. ‘I’ll still need to train for something. Perhaps nursing.’ She blinked her eyes furiously. ‘Tim suggested that and I think he was right.’
She’d thought about it several times since his death and the idea pleased her greatly. It meant he would be with her in a sense, would have given her a permanent legacy. Then reality bit and she shook her head. ‘Dad will find some way to stop me, you know he will. If Mum makes him mad enough, he’ll do anything he can to hurt her – through me, if he has to.’ She shivered. ‘He frightens me when I’m on my own with him, you know. He thumped me around quite a bit when he came to get me in Perth.’
Jenny gasped. ‘No!’
‘Mind,’ Louise allowed, ‘I probably needed it. But he didn’t need to enjoy it, which he definitely did. And I was terrified. Absolutely terrified,’ she repeated, remembering that day with a shiver.
‘He’s always made me nervous. Tim used to say—’ Jenny broke off for a moment, then continued unsteadily, ‘that I should stand up to him. But I’m not like you two. I’m soft. Too soft. More like Mum, really.’
Ned frowned. ‘I don’t like your father, I must admit, but is he really so bad?’
Jenny nodded. ‘Well, he does like to be the big boss man and make everyone’s decisions for them, though to give the devil his due, he’s always supported us in style. But he’s had Mum under his thumb for years.’ She paused, then added, ‘Well, except for her embroidery, though she puts that away when he’s home.’
Ned shook his head. ‘He was very scornful about it when he was talking to my father, but she’s a brilliant artist! How can he not see that?’
‘That’s probably the reason he hates it,’ Louise said gloomily. ‘He doesn’t like anyone else to shine too brightly when he’s around. You should see him perform at a party. Mr Wonderful in person.’
They stayed on in the pub until nearly three o’clock, then Louise sighed. ‘I think we’d better get back, don’t you? She might – you know, need us.’
‘You drop us outside,’ Jenny told Ned. ‘No need to stir things up further by you and Dad having a confrontation.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes. Very sure.’ She linked her arm in Louise’s. ‘Besides, there are two of us, not one.’
‘Three. Don’t forget Mum.’
But their mother wasn’t at home and their father was on the phone as usual, talking about—The two sisters looked at one another apprehensively. He was ending the lease on this house.
‘Didn’t she tell Dad?’ Jenny whispered.
‘I don’t know.’
Paul came out of his little office. ‘Come into the living room. I want a word with you two.’ He waited until they sat down together on one of the sofas, then said, ‘We’re all going back to Australia as soon as I can book seats on a plane. Go and get me your return ticket, Jenny, and I’ll rebook you with us – I presume you did have a return ticket?’
She took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to stay on in England with Ned’s family. We’re going to get married quite soon.’
‘You can get married later.’ His smile became frosty at the edges. ‘Your mother needs you at the moment. She’s rather upset by all this. So go and get the ticket, there’s a good girl.’
‘I’m sorry, but I’m not going back with you.’
He glowered at her. ‘Don’t make me have to come and find the ticket.’
Her mouth fell open. ‘But—’
‘I mean it, Jenny. What this family needs now is pulling together and I intend to do just that.’ He set his hands on his hips and stared at her challengingly. ‘Well, are you going to get that ticket or am I?’
‘I’ll – it’s in my room.’ She stumbled upstairs wondering how to buy time, feeling as if she were living in a nightmare. Whatever had happened between her parents had made her father go all aggro. Had her mother given in to him again? Surely not? And where was she?
Jenny took out the plane ticket, looked at it and shook her head. She’d paid for it. It was hers and he had no right to take it off her. She tiptoed out on the landing to see what was happening downstairs. He was shouting at Louise now, ranting on about people who went off for a drink in the pub at a time when the family should stick together.
‘And with a stranger, too!’ he roared.
‘Ned’s not a stranger. He’s going to marry my sister.’
‘Not if I have any say in the matter. I don’t want a wimp like him for a son-in-law.’
Upstairs Jenny’s hand flew up to her mouth. She knew her father and Ned had hardly had the most promising of introductions – but she hadn’t thought even he would try to stop them getting married. If she went back to Australia, she’d be stuck there without the money to return. Well, she’d have the rest of her winnings, but why should she have to buy another ticket with it when she was here already?
No, she wasn’t going. She was staying here and marrying Ned. Letting out a long, slow breath, she murmured, ‘Sorry, Mum.’
She stuffed the plane ticket into her handbag, together with all her remaining money. Then she shoved some underwear into a plastic carrier bag. After a hasty glance round to see if there was anything else she could grab quickly, she crept out onto the landing, ducking back with a gasp as her father came into the hall.
He yelled over his shoulder, ‘And you, young lady, are going back to your studies next semester. Business studies. The only sort of qualification that gets people jobs nowadays. You can do better for yourself than nursing, by hell you can!’ He strode off towards the kitchen, not even glancing upstairs, and there came the sound of running water and the kettle being switched on.
As cups rattled and cupboard doors slammed, Jenny tiptoed down the stairs. Passing the open door of the living room, she saw Louise sitting disconsolately on the sofa and paused, her heart going out to her sister. When Louise looked up, Jenny raised one hand in farewell and blew her a kiss.
Louise made shooing motions with one hand.
Jenny managed to get the front door open without her father hearing and didn’t even try to close it behind her. Once outside she took off at a run, haring down the street as if pursued by all the demons from hell.
When she saw the Dorchester bus chugging round the corner towards her, it seemed as if fate was on her side. Hope springing up anew at this miracle, she sprinted to the pole with its little BUS STOP sign at the top and its faded timetable under a pane of cracked glass, signalling to it to stop.
With a grin the driver pulled up. ‘Nearly missed it there, young lady, didn’t you? If I hadn’t been running late, you’d have had to wait another hour.’
Joy filled Jenny. ‘Yes. What a bit of luck! A single to Dorchester, please.’ She slid into the seat and sat smiling out at the world. She wasn’t going back to Australia yet. Not even for her mother’s sake. And since she was almost twenty-three, there was no legal way her father could make her.
If Ned’s family didn’t want her, she’d simply find somewhere else to stay and get a job. She had just cast her vote with her feet. Stuff you, Dad, she thought. Go and find someone else to bully.
There was nothing she could do to help her mother except take herself out of the equation. Now her mother only had Louise to worry about.
When Rosalind’s tears dried up, she poured out all the details of the encounter with her husband to Jonathon, then lay back on the couch, numb with tiredness and reaction.
‘You needed to cry it out,’ he said. ‘You really did.’
‘Yes.’ The lump of ice inside her was gone now, but she was left with a sea of churning panic in its place. ‘I’m going to leave him, Jonathon.’
‘Are you sure about that?’
She nodded. ‘Very sure.’ She waited a minute and when he didn’t say anything, she asked, ‘Can I come here to you?’
When he didn’t immediately reply, she looked sideways. ‘Jonathon?’
‘I want you to leave him, of course I do. And I want us to try living together. But I’m not sure—’ He began to chew one corner of his lip.
‘Not sure of what?’
‘Of whether you really do want to make a life with me. Or whether you just want to leave him.’
‘Jonathon!’
‘And I don’t think you’re completely sure yet, either, which is more to the point. One doesn’t break up a long marriage like yours in a fit of anger. If you want my opinion, you need to go back to Australia and make certain you really can leave everything – home, country, friends.’ His eyes were shadowed. ‘I’ve made one very serious mistake, Rosalind, and I’m not about to make another. Even to help you.’
‘I thought,’ her breath caught on a sob, ‘you loved me.’
‘I do, very much indeed, but I’m too old and wary to toss everything aside because of it. That’s not enough for me or for anyone. You, of all people, should know that. You loved Paul once. Greatly, if I’m any judge.’
More tears filled her eyes, trickling from the lake of meltwater within her. ‘Yes.’
‘So I’m not going to rush into anything – not even with you, my dearest Rosalind. When things have calmed down, when you’ve found your feet again, we could try living together. I’d really like to get to know you better in – more normal circumstances,’ he gave her a wry smile, ‘and for you to get to know me, warts and all. I actually believe we stand a good chance of building a successful, and I hope long-term relationship – but not now, not while you’re so upset with him. I won’t be held responsible in future for breaking up your marriage, not by you or by anyone else.’
After a short silence, he gave her a hug, then put her resolutely away from him. ‘Come to the kitchen. I’ll get you a cup of coffee and a biscuit.’
She went with him, feeling shattered. She’d failed with Paul. Was she failing with Jonathon already?
Was he failing her?
Or was he right?
Did she need more time to come to terms with the failure of her marriage? She didn’t know. She didn’t feel as if she was very wise at all. The whole world, herself included, was a puzzle to her lately, incomprehensible as a high-walled maze that she’d strayed into by sheer chance on a moonless night.
‘Thanks.’ She sipped the coffee, avoiding his eyes.
He sat jiggling a teabag in his own cup, then fussing over the milk and sugar.
When the caffeine had started to kick into her system she stood up. ‘I’d better get back, then.’
He stood up too and tried to take her in his arms.
‘Don’t.’ She pushed at him. ‘Don’t!’
He stood looking down at her, an anxious question in his eyes.
And suddenly she knew she wouldn’t be certain of anything until she got back to her own home and possessions, the home which had been the centre of her world for so long.
‘You’re right,’ she said, turning to walk out of the house. At the front door she stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘I do need to go home before I commit to anything else. How wise you are! And there’s Louise to sort out, as well. I can’t abandon her to Paul’s tender mercies.’ She looked at him searchingly. ‘I’ll write. And phone. If you want me to.’
‘I do.’ He didn’t have her Australian address and still he let her go, watching her drive away, aching to call her back. But he couldn’t do that. Didn’t dare. He wanted Rosalind whole in heart and mind – or not at all.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, to see her grow and expand, to make her happy, to be happy himself.
Was that too much to ask?
He wouldn’t settle for anything less.
At home Rosalind found the mail on the floor in the hall. She picked it up and began to open her own letters, not wanting to see Paul yet. She could hear him upstairs. It sounded as if he was packing his things, whistling cheerfully.
He knew she was back, but he didn’t come down to see her. He expected her to go to him.
There was a letter from her mother, written just after Tim died, which made Rosalind weep a little, and there was a letter from the solicitor in Southport to say they’d got probate. The money to which she was currently entitled would have been transferred into her account by the time she received this. The sum he mentioned was so large it made her gasp. She stuffed that letter hurriedly into her pocket.
She and Paul had enough problems to sort out without him trying to get hold of her money. Or trying to fool her into believing he was a reformed character, because of the money.
Besides, this was her ticket to freedom – if she decided to leave him.
‘I have to go up to London first thing tomorrow,’ Paul said as she entered the bedroom.
He didn’t even turn his head to look at her, she thought resentfully.
‘I’ve booked us three on a plane to Australia leaving Heathrow Saturday teatime. I wanted to book Jenny, too, but she ran out of the house and took her return ticket with her. Went off to join that twit, I suppose. So bugger her. She can fend for herself from now on.’
Rosalind felt a spurt of relief trickle through her. Jenny was safe, then. But there was still Louise to worry about. ‘I think that’s the right thing for Jenny,’ she said carefully. ‘Ned will look after her.’
‘I don’t agree. I think she should bloody well put family first at a time like this.’
She didn’t state the obvious, that this was the first time he’d put family first in all their years together – if he was putting it first, if this wasn’t part of some devious scheme or other. No, surely not! Even Paul wouldn’t be scheming at a time like this. She contented herself with, ‘Ned is her family, now.’
‘Well, she needn’t come to me to pay for a fancy wedding if she won’t do the right thing by you.’
‘She’s doing exactly the right thing by me – marrying the man she loves.’ And if Paul didn’t pay for the wedding, Rosalind would. Not a huge, extravagant one, which she thought a waste, but a nice wedding. And she’d certainly come back to attend it.
Oh, it felt so good to have Sophie’s money behind her. ‘I’ll leave you to pack your things, then.’
He looked at the jumble in his suitcase. ‘Could you just sort this out for me …?’
‘No, I couldn’t. I’m exhausted.’ And besides, she didn’t want to touch his things. Or him.
What did that say?
‘Thanks for nothing.’ His lips curved in a particularly nasty sneer. ‘Wept all over your dear friends, have you?’
There was no point in denying the obvious. ‘Yes.’
‘Feel better for it?’
‘Not really.’ She turned partly away from him.
He paused halfway towards her, arms outstretched, then let his arms drop. ‘I see. I’m still in the doghouse, eh?’
‘Very much so.’
‘Ros, I’m not going to beg you to stay with me, but I’ll reiterate – what I’ve done doesn’t make any difference to our marriage. It never has.’
She looked at him as if he were a stranger. He felt like a stranger. ‘So you say. And my name’s Rosalind. It always has been. And fidelity happens to be something I value very highly indeed. You’ve had that from me.’
He let out a long, aggrieved sigh and turned back to his case, cramming things in with a bit more care.
‘I’ll be back on Friday evening to pick you and Louise up and I’ll drive us to Heathrow on Saturday morning. We’ll get the hire firm to pick up your car up from here.’ He hesitated. ‘You are coming back with me, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I’m definitely coming back to Australia. I could perfectly well drive the car up to London myself, though. Save you a journey.’
‘No need. I’ll come and get you.’ He zipped up the suitcase. ‘Oh, and if Jenny comes to her senses, phone me through her flight details, will you? I can still change her ticket.’ Scorn filled his eyes. ‘That girl is too soft by far. We should have done something to toughen her up.’
‘Why?’
‘Because life, as you have recently found out, my dear sheltered wife, is never simple and one needs to be able to cope with it. I’d have thought the episode with Michael would have taught Jenny something, but no, she’s walked straight into another relationship. I’m not a wicked ogre, as you all seem to think. I’m actually trying to look after my family, though a fat lot of thanks I get for it.’
He waited for her to say something and when she didn’t, his voice became slower, with a patronising edge to it. ‘Jenny’s new relationship has been formed on the rebound. It won’t last. And I don’t like that Ned. He’s as soft as she is. He’ll not make a good husband for her. She needs someone stronger, someone who can look after her. As I’ve looked after you. That’s why I wanted to get her back to Australia.’
She couldn’t bear to listen to him making these ridiculous statements any longer, as if he had looked after her, when he’d spent so much time away from home and gone with other women. She walked out and went downstairs.
He came to the bedroom door and yelled after her, ‘You stupid bitch, come back! Stop walking out on me! We have to talk!’
She carried on, ending up outside in the garden, breathing in the fresh air in big gulps and blinking her eyes furiously. She wasn’t going to cry any more. She was not.
He came out to see her, radiating anger, grabbed hold of her arm and shook her.
She let out a mew of surprise, because he’d never laid hands on her before.
‘Pull yourself together, Ros. We have got to talk.’
He let go of her arm, but she could still feel the painful spot where his fingers had dug in. As she stared at him, something inside her balked at speaking, so she kept her mouth firmly shut.
The words spurted out of him as if they’d been forced through a very narrow space. ‘I definitely don’t want us to split up. I never have wanted us to split up.’
She tried to turn away, frightened by his anger, but he grabbed her arm again. ‘Listen, will you! You made a big thing about me listening to you, now it’s your turn to listen to me, dammit.’
So she stood there numbly, waiting for him to speak.
‘I’m coming back on Friday evening and if you’re not here, I’ll scour England for you. I mean that, Ros. We’re going back to Australia together, you, Louise and I. I want us to remain a family. I really want that.’
She couldn’t think what to say.
‘After the funeral I wanted us to make up, get closer, not – not—’ He paused to gulp back the emotion that welled in him.
She stared in shock at the tears in his eyes.
‘But no, you have to choose this moment to make a stand, Rosalind. See. I do remember what you want to be called. Well, I’m upset about Tim, too, and I’ve had it with this place.’ He scowled round at the house as he fished out a handkerchief and blew his nose.
‘We’re not only going back to Australia, but we’re going to sort things out between us. I want that. I really do.’
She nodded again, not having the energy to do anything else at the moment. Those were definitely tears in his eyes. She hadn’t expected that, and it made her uncertain of what she wanted as nothing else could have done.
‘Good,’ he said in a softer voice. ‘And tonight you and I are going out for a meal together. I’ve booked a table at a place I saw in Wareham.’
‘I don’t want to—’
‘Can’t you even spare me a little time? Just you and me. No children.’ he asked. ‘Can’t we even try spending time together? After all those years of being married?’
She opened her mouth to refuse, then closed it again and shrugged. ‘All right.’
The restaurant in Wareham was small and discreetly lit. Waiters fussed over them. A candle flickered on the table, next to a white rose in a slender bud vase. Rosalind stirred the food round on her plate and tried to look as if she was eating.
After the main course, however, Paul looked at her. ‘This isn’t working, is it?’
‘No.’
‘Want to leave now?’ He pushed aside his plate, of which he’d eaten perhaps half.
She sighed in relief. ‘Please.’ It was such a parody of a romantic evening. And they had both been really struggling to find neutral subjects to talk about.
On the way home he stopped the car in the car park of Corfe Castle. As the engine died, he leant his head on his hands for a moment, then looked sideways at her. ‘I don’t want us to break up, Ros – I really don’t.’ His voice broke.
She was shocked to see tears glinting on his cheeks again. ‘Paul—’ she said hesitantly, not sure what to do or say.
And suddenly, he was weeping, harsh sounds that filled the car. She hadn’t thought he could weep.
‘I didn’t even see him!’ he sobbed. ‘I never even saw Tim again! He was my son, too, you know!’
She took him in her arms and shushed him as if he was one of her children, and when he turned and clutched her, she let him, patting his back, murmuring meaningless words of comfort. It took a long time for the tears to stop.
‘Oh, hell!’ he said shakily at last. ‘You must think me a real wimp.’
‘No. I’m glad you cried for him.’
‘Ros,’ he gulped audibly, ‘I can’t lose you as well. You – you won’t really leave me, will you? Please don’t!’
‘I can’t promise anything yet. We’ll have to – to see if we can grow together again.’ And she’d have to see if she could forget Jonathon.
‘But you’ll give it a chance.’
He rubbed at his eyes, gave a shamefaced laugh and asked, ‘Got a handkerchief?’
She fumbled in her handbag and passed him the little packet of tissues she always carried. ‘Here, use these.’ She could hear how raw his breathing was and see an occasional tear tracking down his face.
She moved back a little and stared out of the window.
‘Want to leave now?’ he asked eventually.
When she nodded and looked at him, he reminded her for a moment of a much younger Paul, the man she had fallen in love with and married. But only for a moment. Perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight. But if it wasn’t …
When they got in Paul went straight upstairs and Rosalind followed him slowly. She could hear Louise moving around her bedroom, the CD player making a faint rhythmic sound. Louise didn’t call out and Rosalind didn’t go in to see her.
But she had to force herself to follow Paul into the bedroom. She hesitated in the doorway. What she needed now was time to think. Away from him. Time to assess her own feelings. She felt as if the universe had heaved beneath her feet tonight.
Paul looked at her with a frown. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Getting my night things.’
‘Aren’t you going to sleep with me?’
‘No. Not yet.’
He closed his eyes for a moment, his lips a tight, thin line.
When he didn’t try to persuade her, she nearly weakened, then shook her head in annoyance at herself. He hadn’t been pretending to cry, he really had been racked with anguish for their son’s death and she thought he truly wanted to stay married to her.
But did she truly want to stay married to him? A marriage was for two people, not one. She still wasn’t sure she could trust him. Would he really try to change?
Could he?
In the morning, Paul was subdued, eating a rapid breakfast and leaving by six-thirty. ‘I’ll ring you tonight, Ros – Rosalind, to check that everything is all right.’
He leant forward as if about to kiss her cheek, but she pulled back, so he muttered something and turned on his heel.
Only when she’d heard his car drive away did she start to think clearly again. She went back into the kitchen, breathed in the delightful peace without his abrasive presence and put the kettle on.
She couldn’t get the thought of his tears out of her mind, though.
A voice from behind her said hesitantly, ‘Mum? Has Dad gone?’
‘Yes. Come and have a cup of coffee with me, Louise. We need to talk.’
‘Are you going to leave him?’
‘I don’t know. I shan’t know till I get home.’ Maybe not even then. She was torn every which way at the moment.
‘Mum, don’t let him persuade you. You deserve your own life now.’
‘I won’t let him persuade me,’ Rosalind promised. ‘But you don’t lightly toss away twenty-five years of marriage.’
Jenny stared round the comfortable bedroom with its single bed. Mrs Didburin – Stella – had been kind to her, and so had Ned. She smiled involuntarily as she looked at the bar of chocolate by the side of the bed. He’d pressed it on her ‘for comfort’ last night. Dear Ned. What a lovely teddy bear of a man he was! But she felt very guilty for leaving her mother alone to face her father.
‘Jenny!’
‘Yes?’ She poked her head out of the bedroom door and Stella’s voice floated upstairs. ‘Phone call for you. You can take it in the hall.’
‘Who is it?’ If it was her father, she wasn’t going to speak to him, whether that was cowardly or not.
‘Your mother.’
‘Thanks. I’ll be right down.’ Jenny rushed downstairs. ‘Hello? Mum, are you all right?’
‘Yes, of course. Are you all right, love? Your father didn’t hurt you yesterday, did he?’
‘No. Never mind me. I’ve got Ned. How are you – really?’
‘I’m – oh, you know – coping.’
‘I’m sorry to leave you in the lurch like that, Mum. I just couldn’t take any more. He was going to take my ticket from me by force.’
‘Leaving was probably the best thing for you to do, darling. I’m phoning to say your father’s gone back to London. You and Ned had better come and collect the rest of your things today. I have to pack and close up the house. We’re flying out on Saturday.’
‘You’re going back to him? After all he’s done.’ Disappointment flooded through Jenny’s body, tasting bitter in her mouth.
‘I’m going back to Australia. To my home. As to the other, I don’t know.’ She repeated the formula she had used for Louise. Bland words, masking a turmoil of contradictions that were tearing her apart. ‘It’s not an easy thing to do, you know, break up a marriage after all this time.’
She would telephone Jonathon later today and confirm that she was leaving on Saturday, give him her email address, so that he could write to her.
Jenny put the phone down and burst into tears on Ned’s broad chest. ‘She’s going back to Australia with him! He’ll smother her – he’ll never let me see her again.’
The plane took off on time. Rosalind leant back and sighed in mingled relief and tiredness. There had been so many things to sort out. Embroideries to discuss with George Didburin. Food remnants to go to Alice Tuffin. Other bits and pieces to Harry, to be disposed of as she saw fit.
By far the hardest of all had been sorting out Tim’s few possessions. She and Louise had done that together, weeping over how little he had to show for his life.
And all the time Louise had kept begging her not to go back.
‘I have to,’ she’d said each time. ‘I have to go back to my home and begin sorting my life out from there.’ Because that was where it had all started. Because her home had always been so important to her.
She’d spoken to Jonathon on the phone, not daring to see him again till she was sure of herself. He’d showed his usual understanding of her needs and in the end she’d had to say goodbye because she couldn’t speak through her tears.
‘Penny for them.’ Beside her Paul smiled and patted her hand, but she couldn’t return his smile and she pulled her hand away. She looked sideways at him, this man with whom she had spent all her adult life. Did she know him? Did anyone really know another person?
‘You all right, Ros?’ He saw her expression. ‘Oh, very well, Rosalind, then. It’ll take me a while to get used to it. Rosalind.’ He sat with his head on one side and repeated it again, like a child learning a poem. ‘Sounds quite good, actually. Dignified. I shall enjoy introducing you to people as my wife, Rosalind Stevenson.’
Trust him to make small concessions gracefully once he felt sure he’d won the major battle. She felt naked without her daughter there. You shouldn’t need an intermediary with your own husband. But she did. ‘I wish you’d let Louise fly business class with us.’
‘Whatever for? She’s young enough to cope with those narrow seats and mass troughing conditions. Waste of money to pay more than double the fare for her.’ He turned to smile at the hostess, who was offering him a glass of champagne. ‘Thank you. Ros, do you want one?’
She shook her head. She needed to keep a clear head. Was he drinking more heavily because of Tim? Or had it been going on for a while and she’d not noticed before?
After the first meal, he sat back, replete and mellow, sipping a glass of cognac now. ‘What did you do with your embroidery things? I haven’t seen any extra suitcases. Didn’t you bring them back with you?’
‘Just a couple of pieces I’ve been working on.’ The family portrait was almost finished now, but she still had to complete her own figure. For that, she had to understand what she had become and where she was going.
His face brightened. ‘I know you’ve done quite well with it, but I still think embroidery was a stupid occupation for the twentieth century. There are machines to do that sort of thing now. You just program them and they do it for you.’
A black mark for that, Paul, she thought. You can’t even give me my own creative space, can you? She changed the subject. ‘So – what are your plans for the coming year? Where is the chairman sending you next?’
‘I’ve got a month’s compassionate leave to see you settled in at home first. What with Tim and all. And talking of home, I have a small piece of news for you. I got a phone call from Australia yesterday.’
‘Oh?’
‘That fellow who attacked Jenny. Michael Whatsit.’
‘What about him?’
‘I put a private detective on to him, a good one. Rod followed him, caught him attacking another woman, knocked the bastard out and called the police. So it’s quite likely dear Michael will serve a prison sentence. I’ve informed the police that my daughter will be happy to make a statement to help the prosecution, but I suppose they can get that from England.’ He smiled at Rosalind, waiting to be praised.
‘I’m glad he’s where he can’t harm anyone else. That must have cost you a lot of money.’
He shrugged. ‘No lowlife scum hurts my daughter and gets away with it.’
She nodded and let him take her response how he wanted. From the smugness of his expression, he had decided her reaction meant approval. Actually, she was trying not to ask whether he saw Jenny as a person in her own right, or only as his daughter.
Whether he saw his wife as a person in her own right or only as his wife. The sort of question she should have asked years ago.
But in the end she decided it’d do no good to ask. He wouldn’t even understand the point she was making. She doubted he would ever understand such subtleties.
They took a taxi home from the airport, sitting in silence except when Paul commented on the beauty of the Perth foreshore. No one answered him. Louise was glowering out of the window. Rosalind was looking inwards, surprised how much a stranger she felt here now.
Perth in late May was cool. Almost winter. Another change of season, she thought ruefully, but one she had always liked far more than the hot summers. If only she could be sure what the right thing was to do.
Stay or go?
Forgive and forget?
Or remember and reject?
Twenty-five years of marriage was a long time. Jonathon was right. She did need to make her decision more carefully, not in the heat of the moment.
If Paul would let her. His cheerfulness on the flight back had come as something of a shock. Did he think things were settled now? Surely not?
At the house her mother was waiting, warned by Paul to expect them.
Rosalind surprised them all, herself included, by bursting into tears and throwing herself into her mother’s arms. Then she noticed the man standing behind her mother. ‘John. I didn’t see you. Sorry to ignore you. I’m a bit – emotional.’
‘You have every reason to be. I can wait in the car if you’d rather be alone with your mother.’
‘No, no. Of course not!’
They all went inside. Rosalind excused herself to go up to the bathroom. She needed a moment before she could face them.
When she went down to the sitting room she viewed it with fresh eyes. It was like an ice cavern. Pale cool colours, chill marble floor, stark glass and brass. What a change from the small rooms in English houses, the busy wallpapers, the fussy ornaments! Even the big rooms in Jonathon’s house were fussy compared to this one.
Her smile faltered for a moment as she thought of him, of Destan Manor and the village, of Jenny left behind with Ned, Jenny weeping as Ned drove her away the other night after she’d packed her things. Of Jenny trying not to accept the cheque her mother had given her, but in the end agreeing. Rosalind knew Sophie would have approved of that use of her money. ‘You need some independence,’ she’d told her daughter firmly. ‘Even from Ned.’
As everyone sat down for a cup of coffee, Audrey and John looked at one another self-consciously. ‘We have some news for you,’ she said, reaching for his hand.
‘Audrey has done me the honour of agreeing to become my wife,’ he said in the fussy, precise way he always spoke.
But his expression was young and happy as he exchanged smiles with Audrey and that delighted Rosalind. ‘Oh, I’m so glad for you both!’ She went across and gave them both big hugs.
Paul’s congratulations were more temperate and he tried not to show the jubilation he felt. Another stumbling block to going to America removed for him, just like that. Couldn’t be better. The cards were certainly falling in his favour. Even that damned burst of weeping had had good results. He still felt hot with shame as he thought of that.
And now they were home, they’d have none of that other nonsense. Separate bedrooms, indeed! He’d seen where she’d dumped her suitcase. What did she think he was? A celibate monk? He was nearly bursting for a screw and he’d get one out of her tonight. A bit of romance never failed with her and she was easy to arouse, always had been.
There was a ring at the door and when he went to answer it, a florist’s van was parked outside.
‘Delivery for Stevenson,’ the woman said.
He carried the red roses back into the sitting room, smiling. It’d have been better timing if the flowers had arrived after Audrey and that moon-faced old fogy had left, but never mind. You played the cards you were dealt.
‘For you,’ he said to his wife, flourishing a bow as he presented them to her.
She stared. ‘What?’
He felt a fool in that silly position and straightened up. ‘Aren’t you going to take them?’
She did so, setting them on the low table immediately, where the dark red of the roses was echoed in reflection as an even darker dried-blood colour. It made her shiver. ‘To Ros, with love from Paul,’ she read aloud and gazed at him blankly. ‘Oh.’
‘Now that’s a nice touch,’ Audrey said, leaning forward to examine the flowers. ‘Beautiful, aren’t they? Pity they don’t have a perfume, though. I always think flowers should have a perfume.’
Louise didn’t join in the chorus of admiration. Surely her mother wasn’t going to fall for that old red roses trick? She was getting very worried about what was going on. Her father was looking smug, not chastened, and her mother had become very distant and vague again, like she’d been before they went to England.
She’d seen where her mother dumped her things when they arrived here, though. In one of the spare bedrooms. And seen her father’s scowl as he watched her. So maybe there was still hope?
But these roses worried her. He was clearly trying to get back into her mother’s bed again. Oh, hell, he was up to every trick in the book, that randy bastard was. And if her mother didn’t leave him, Louise would be forced to stay with him, too, though not for long.
She would be eighteen soon and she wasn’t going back to business studies whatever he said. Nursing, she’d decided. Helping people who were sick, who really needed you – as she’d tried to help Tim, but hadn’t been able to. She’d make up for that, though, by helping others. She really would. She’d make Tim proud of her and she’d do something for which she was suited. Best of all she’d be proud of herself.
‘Well, we’d better go and leave you three to settle in,’ Audrey said, putting down her empty coffee cup. ‘I’m sorry Jenny isn’t here, but Ned certainly sounds a nice young man.’
‘He’s thirty,’ Paul cut in, ‘running to fat and already going bald. Not exactly young. And he’s a typical public school wallah. No chin and no fire in his belly.’
‘I like him,’ Rosalind said, frowning at Paul, ‘and I’m sure you will, too, when you meet him, Mum.’
‘Are they coming over for a visit, then?’ Audrey asked eagerly.
‘No. But if you two are getting married, I’d like to offer you a trip to England as a wedding present. You could go there for a honeymoon. Check Ned out for yourself. Go up to Southport for a few days, perhaps. I haven’t closed Sophie’s house. Prue is going to caretake it for me. I think she’s met a guy in Southport. I hope it works out for her.’
Louise nearly wet herself trying not to laugh at her father’s outraged expression. He’d hate her mother spending that much money on a present, even if it wasn’t his money. And he clearly didn’t know about the house in Southport still being open.
Louise escorted her grandmother out to the car, but stopped outside the front door. ‘I just want to say how sorry I am for how badly I behaved when I was staying with you, Gran. I was out of line and – well, I’m sorry. Tim told me I’d been a fool, but I had to,’ her voice wobbled for a moment at the thought of her brother and the talks they’d had, ‘had to realise that for myself.’
Audrey reached out to hug her. ‘I’m really glad to have my granddaughter back.’ She looked back towards the house. ‘Are they all right? Paul and Rosalind, I mean? They seem a bit – strained.’
‘I hope they’re not all right. He’s been rotten to her.’ Louise looked over her shoulder to check that he wasn’t nearby, and added, ‘He’s been unfaithful, actually. And she’s very upset about it.’
Audrey’s mouth dropped open in shock.
‘Don’t say I told you. I just thought that if you knew – if she needed help – you’d not say the wrong thing. You see – it was with Liz.’
There was a moment’s silence, then Audrey whispered, ‘Liz?’
‘Mmm. Him and Liz. And now she’s having a baby – Dad’s baby. It’s so sordid.’
John cleared his throat. ‘I’m glad you’ve told us, young lady. You can be sure it’ll go no further. Your poor mother!’ He shook his head. ‘And having to face it at a time like this, too.’ Then he coaxed a tearful Audrey into the car.
When they’d left, the thought that her mother wasn’t completely under his thumb yet, that she’d had the courage to offer her own mother a big wedding gift, took Louise upstairs more cheerfully to unpack her things. It felt good to be back in her own room. But it felt awful to pass Tim’s door. Not that he’d been there for ages, but still – knowing he’d never come back hurt so much.
In the kitchen, Rosalind set about washing the dishes.
Paul came in with the box of roses. ‘You haven’t put them in water yet.’
She turned to him and her voice was like ice. ‘Did you really think that cheap trick would win me over again?’
‘It wasn’t a cheap trick.’
‘Oh, yes, it was! Believe me, the only way you’ll get me into your bed at the moment will be by force!’
He threw the roses at her, muttering something which sounded like ‘Stupid bitch!’ and slammed out of the house.