Chapter 8
Clive paused at the gate of Daisyfield Cottage and took a deep breath. Nerves had taken hold of him, despite the stern lecture he’d given himself before setting off. He straightened his tie and smoothed his hair.
A mirthless ‘Huh!’ escaped his lips as he realised what he was doing.
Honestly! What was wrong with him? It was just a friendly dinner with his work colleague and his girlfriend, and their families. No one would give him a second glance. The focus would be on Summer, and quite rightly so. She was, after all, the one jetting off to Australia on Monday. This evening was all about her, and he needed to remember that.
Even so…
He closed his eyes briefly, then walked slowly up the garden path. Vaguely he registered that the front garden was looking very pretty, its borders bright with spring flowers, but he didn’t have time to think more deeply about that as the door opened before he’d even reached the step.
‘You made it!’
Ben grinned at him, his blue eyes twinkling, and Clive swallowed.
‘How did you know I?—’
‘I was looking out of the window. We wondered if you’d turn up, but I’m really glad you did. Come in!’
Clive tried to arrange his facial features into a smile and allowed Ben to usher him into the hallway before being led into the living room.
He’d never been in here before and was pleasantly surprised. It was a light, bright room with a contemporary feel. He knew it had been recently decorated, and the Callaghans had thrown out all the old, dark furniture from Monk’s Folly and replaced it with modern light oak units and a grey three-piece suite that looked extremely inviting and put the one at Whispering Willows to shame.
Summer, her chestnut hair loose around her shoulders for once, was sitting in an armchair, smiling a welcome. She was, he noted with surprise, wearing a dress. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her out of jeans before, apart from at her mum’s wedding when she’d been a bridesmaid. Oh, and Joseph’s funeral, though even then she’d worn black trousers.
Her mum, Sally, and stepfather, Rafferty, were on the sofa.
‘Isn’t this lovely, Clive?’ Sally asked him eagerly. ‘I don’t know about you but it’s not often we get invited out to dinner. This is a proper treat.’
‘Great to see you out and about, Clive,’ Rafferty said. ‘How are you?’
There was sympathy in his tone and Clive knew he was referring to his recent loss, but he didn’t want to get into all that. Not tonight. It would be too much to deal with.
‘Ah, you know,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Getting on with it.’
Rafferty nodded. ‘No other option really I guess.’
Clive didn’t reply, but sat, rather awkwardly, on the free armchair. Ben’s younger brother, Jamie, was perched on a beanbag and Clive frowned.
‘Did you want this chair, Jamie?’
Jamie grinned. ‘You’re all right. I often sit on here. I like it. Besides, not being funny but if you sat on this beanbag you’d probably never get up again.’
‘Don’t be so cheeky,’ Ben reproved him, but Clive gave him a rueful smile.
‘You’re probably right,’ he acknowledged. ‘I’m safer here in this chair, that’s for sure. Where’s your mum, by the way?’
‘In the kitchen, naturally,’ Ben said. ‘Before you say anything, she wouldn’t let us help her. We all volunteered but she insisted she wanted to do everything herself.’
‘She did,’ Sally assured him. ‘Mind you, that’s probably for the best. If I’d helped her cook anything none of you would want to eat it.’
‘You’re very good at prepping though,’ Rafferty reminded her, and she beamed at him.
‘I am, aren’t I? We all have our strengths and weaknesses.’
The door to the kitchen opened and Jennifer hurried in. Clive glanced up at her, and his heart gave its customary flutter which, as always, he refused to acknowledge.
‘Oh, you’re here,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘I didn’t hear the door. Sorry. Well, you’re just in time because dinner’s about to be served. Would you all like to come through to the dining room?’
Everyone immediately got to their feet—Clive couldn’t help noticing with some envy that Jamie fairly sprang up from the beanbag with no difficulty at all—and followed Jennifer into the dining room, where a large table had been laid.
‘Now, just sit down and make yourselves comfortable,’ Jennifer said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute with the starters.’
‘What are we having, Mum?’ Jamie asked, taking a seat before anyone else had even thought about it. He nodded at the bowls that had been placed on the table. ‘I’m guessing soup?’
Jennifer looked a bit bashful. ‘It’s nothing much, I’m afraid. Yes, you’re right, Jamie. Just a simple carrot and coriander soup with home baked bread rolls. I hope that’s okay.’
Everyone agreed that was more than okay, and Jennifer hurried back into the kitchen after refusing everyone’s offer of help.
‘Well, this is nice,’ Clive said, hoping he didn’t sound too tense as he sat down.
Ben and Summer sat opposite him, and Ben gave him a reassuring smile. Clearly, he understood how nervous and ill-at-ease Clive was feeling and was doing his best to make him feel comfortable.
Maybe, Clive thought with a sudden pang of guilt, he wouldn’t make such an effort if he knew the main reason for Clive’s unease.
As if on cue, Jennifer returned carrying a large tray with a huge bowl of soup and a plate of bread rolls. She placed it in the centre of the table and picked up a ladle.
‘If you’d like to pass me your bowls I’ll fill them for you,’ she offered.
Clive noticed her hands shook as she performed this simple task, and he couldn’t help but lift his gaze to study her face. She wasn’t looking at him, which didn’t surprise him, but was biting her lip, her focus obviously all on serving the soup without spilling any.
He realised it had been a long time since he’d been this close to her, and that she’d aged more than he’d noticed on the brief occasions they’d been in the same room together. He thought the last time had probably been at the open event at Monk’s Folly—he really must stop calling it that as it had been renamed The Arabella Lavender Art Academy—but she’d been in the kitchen then, a proud, if clearly nervous, member of staff, and hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction.
Although she had more lines on her face than he remembered, there was a serenity about her that was reassuring. She’d always been shy and a bit awkward, even before Julian passed, but after he died she’d become a hermit. Ben had worried himself sick about her, and Clive had wished with all his heart there was something he could do to take that worried, haunted look from her face.
Now, though, with a new home and a job at the art academy, and the burden of Monk’s Folly finally lifted, she seemed like a new woman. Her skin was clear, and she’d filled out a little. Despite her obvious nerves about tonight, there was an underlying calm to her, and he thought with some surprise that she radiated contentment.
It had been many years since he’d seen her this way, and the thought came to him that—if he was being brutally honest with himself—he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
Ashamed, he almost dropped the bowl of soup when she handed it to him, and her eyebrows shot up in alarm.
‘Sorry!’
‘Whoops, nearly.’ She smiled at him, her blue eyes bright with amusement, and his heart flip flopped.
Look away, you moron. Do you want people to notice the way you’re gawping at her?
He put the bowl on the table and reached for a napkin, his eyes never leaving the soup. ‘This looks grand, Jennifer. Thank you.’
‘You’re very welcome. After all, it’s a special occasion.’ Jennifer served the last portion of soup and took her seat at the head of the table. ‘How are you feeling, Summer? Excited?’
Summer hastily gulped down her spoonful of soup and nodded. ‘I am, but I’m a bit nervous, too. It’s a long flight, and I’ve never been on an aeroplane before.’
‘You’ll be fine, love,’ Sally promised her. ‘I’d never been on an aeroplane either until we went to Paris for our honeymoon, but I loved it. Besides,’ she added, giving Summer a knowing look, ‘I reckon you’ll be that busy making sure your dad keeps calm you won’t have time to worry.’
Summer grinned. ‘You’re probably right. Dad would never go on a plane,’ she told Ben. ‘Mum wanted us all to go on one of those cheap package holidays to Spain when we were kids, but he refused point blank to fly, and it would have taken that long to go by coach Mum decided it was easier to just book a caravan in Skeggy again.’
‘Well, all that time on a coach with two kids in tow!’ Sally sounded horrified. ‘No thanks. Not to mention how travel sick I get, remember. Bugger that for a game of soldiers.’
Clive smiled, grateful that Sally and Summer’s easy banter had broken some of the tension in the room. Not that anyone else seemed to have noticed it anyway. Just him then?
He risked a sideways glance at Jennifer, but she was concentrating on the food, so he looked away again before anyone noticed where his attention had strayed to.
‘How’s the job at Monk’s Folly going, love?’ Sally asked Jennifer.
Clive watched Jennifer’s face, noting the way her eyes lit up and her face creased with pleasure at the mention of her new career as cook at the art academy.
‘Oh, it’s going really well,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Obviously, we haven’t really got started yet. It’s just day students right now, and it’s simple enough to prepare either a cooked meal or a picnic lunch for them. But the first residential students arrive in a week and then I’ll really be able to get to work.’
‘How are you finding working for Ross Lavender?’ Rafferty enquired.
‘He’s a lovely boy,’ Jennifer enthused. ‘And he doesn’t interfere at all. Lets me make all the decisions about what to cook, which is a relief.’
Summer grinned. ‘I expect he’s too loved up with Clemmie to care what you cook,’ she said. ‘Probably doesn’t even notice the food at all.’
Jennifer’s eyes twinkled. ‘They are quite sweet together,’ she admitted. ‘He’s courting her properly—you know, the old-fashioned way. Proper dates and no staying the night. It’s so charming to see.’
‘Clemmie’s potty about him,’ Summer told her. She gave a sigh of pleasure as she swirled her spoon round in the last of her soup. ‘I’m so glad for them. They waited a long time to be together and they really deserve to be happy.’
‘What about the new art teacher?’ Rafferty enquired, pushing his empty bowl away. ‘How’s he shaping up?’
‘Callum? Seems pleasant enough,’ Jennifer said, thinking about it. ‘I can’t say we’ve spoken much but he’s polite when we do. Rather quiet but Ross says he’s a very good teacher and is passionate about art, which is all he cares about I suppose.’
She glanced round at them all. ‘Is everyone ready for the second course?’
‘Give me a moment!’ Jamie scraped his third bread roll around the edges of his all-but-empty bowl and stuffed it in his mouth. ‘Okay, go for it!’
‘Oh, Jamie,’ Jennifer said mournfully, ‘you have no manners whatsoever.’
‘Bet he wouldn’t have done that if Eloise had been sitting here,’ Ben said with a sly grin.
‘Never mind all that,’ his mother said hastily, as Jamie gave his brother an indignant dig in the ribs. ‘Who’s going to help me collect the dishes?’
Clive’s immediate instinct was to volunteer, but he was too afraid of the rebuttal that he was sure was inevitable, so he said nothing.
Sally and Summer both offered, but Jennifer refused their help. ‘It was a rhetorical question,’ she explained. ‘Jamie, give me a hand please.’ She smiled round at them all. ‘It’s a paella. I hope you all enjoy it. It’s the first time I’ve made it.’
Everyone hurriedly assured her that it sounded marvellous, and she collected some of the dishes then took them into the kitchen, a reluctant Jamie trailing behind with the rest of the soup bowls.
‘Are you all packed then?’ Ben said, turning his attention back to Summer.
She nodded and swallowed. ‘I’m really going to miss you.’
Clive noticed the emotion in Ben’s face and his heart went out to the lad. Young love!
‘It’s not for long,’ he reminded them gently.
‘Three weeks.’ Summer sounded wistful. ‘I’m really looking forward to seeing Billie and Arlo again, and to spending time with Dad, but it does seem a long time to be away. I’ll miss you so much, Ben. I’ll miss all of you. And I can’t help worrying about what might happen at Whispering Willows while I’m gone.’
‘I’ve told you,’ Ben said, squeezing her hand, ‘everything will be fine there. Clive’s on the case, aren’t you, Clive?’ He gave Clive a meaningful look, and Clive straightened his face immediately, nodding briskly at Summer.
‘Absolutely. You don’t have to worry about a thing. Maya and Lennox are going to be popping by every morning and some evenings after school, and they’ll be there at weekends. They’re good kids.’ He didn’t mention that he’d offered them a bumper bonus if they’d put in the extra hours. As far as Summer knew they would be on the standard rate he’d been paying them ever since Joseph got ill.
As far as Bethany knew they didn’t get paid at all and were doing it out of the kindness of their hearts. To be fair he thought Maya probably would have done. Lennox needed a bit more incentive.
‘But what about Bethany?’ Summer persisted, as Jamie and Jennifer returned to the table.
Jamie was carrying plates and Jennifer held a huge dish of paella which, as distracted as Clive was, he couldn’t help noticing smelt delicious.
Summer didn’t even acknowledge their arrival. She’d clearly worked herself up into a bit of a state as she thought about the sanctuary, and Clive noticed the anxiety in her green eyes as she turned to him, a plea in her voice.
‘Has she said anything to you about what she plans to do with the place, because she’s said nothing to me. I tried to get her to tell me something at least, but she was so vague. Said she was still thinking it all over.’
‘Well,’ Sally said heartily, ‘I expect it’s a lot for her to take in. Fancy her not knowing her old home was a horse sanctuary! I’d need a bit of time to think it all over if I was her.’
‘But according to the town grapevine,’ Rafferty added, ‘Bethany was always horse mad when she lived here before. She had her own pony and adored him. The Wilkinsons were a very horsy family, weren’t they?’
Jennifer nodded as she began piling up the plates with paella. ‘They were. Well, not so much the Wilkinsons as the Parkinsons. They were Coral’s family.’
‘Coral?’
‘Joseph and Bethany’s mother,’ she explained, passing the first plate along. ‘The Parkinsons were an old, well-established family in Skimmerdale. They were the ones who originally built Whispering Willows, and it belonged to Coral, not Terence Wilkinson. Even though,’ she added darkly, ‘the way he strutted around you’d have thought it was his by birthright. Odious man.’
Clive’s curiosity was piqued, so even though he was hesitant about direct contact with Jennifer he couldn’t resist asking a question.
‘What was she like? Coral, I mean. Joseph rarely mentioned her, and I wasn’t sure how he really felt about her.’
Jennifer held his gaze for a moment then tilted her head to one side thinking. ‘I barely saw her,’ she admitted. ‘Apparently, she and my mother had been good friends when they were in the same class at the primary school. They only drifted apart after Coral was sent to St Egbert’s when she turned eleven. And then, of course, she met Terence when she was still a teenager. My mother said she became terribly reserved and kept herself to herself.’ She passed another plate along. ‘Sadly she died when I was just a little girl. My mother was very upset as I recall.’
The spoon paused over the paella dish as she considered.
‘Although, I do remember her telling my father that poor Coral would finally get some peace from her husband, which was a blessing. I also remember her saying it’s a pity that Joseph and Bethany wouldn’t get the same reprieve, and that there was no justice in the world, because if there had been it would have been Terence who died, not Coral.’ She shook her head slightly then dished out the last of the paella. ‘I remember that time clearly,’ she confessed. ‘It was all so sad. Everyone was very shocked.’
‘Shocked?’ Sally asked. ‘Was her death unexpected then?’
Jennifer exchanged a fleeting glance with Clive. ‘I suppose it was,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Although she’d been ill for some time.’
Clive felt a pang of sympathy for Bethany. Her childhood, he realised, had hardly been the sort of happy time he’d experienced in his own. She must be carrying a lot of pain inside her.
‘Parkinson?’ Rafferty sounded thoughtful. ‘I know that name. Where do I know that name from?’
‘The Lusty Tup Brewery,’ Jennifer said immediately. ‘It was Albert Parkinson—Coral’s great-grandfather—who founded the brewery way back in the nineteenth century. That’s where most of their money came from. Not all of it, but most.’
‘That’s right,’ Rafferty said. ‘I remember reading about them. So Joseph was related to the brewery owners?’
Clive shook his head. ‘No. The Parkinsons had sold Lusty Tup to another company for a fortune long before Joseph was born. However, he did work there and was passionate about the place, right up until he took early retirement to focus on the sanctuary.’
‘At one time,’ Jennifer said sadly, ‘the Parkinsons were considered to be more important than the Lavenders round here.’
‘Crikey, don’t let Miss Lavender hear you say that,’ Ben spluttered. ‘You know she thinks she’s royalty in this town.’
‘Yes, well, what she forgets is that the Parkinsons gave employment to a great many people in Tuppenny Bridge. Lots of townspeople worked at the Lusty Tup Brewery.’ Jennifer sighed. ‘Julian was one of them, and Leon, too, although of course, it didn’t belong to the Parkinsons by then.’
There was a moment of silence and Clive wondered if everyone else was thinking how amazing it was that Jennifer could talk about her lost husband and son so easily after being a prisoner to her grief for so long.
Summer said, ‘So the Parkinsons were a big deal round here then? Why did someone like Coral Parkinson marry someone like Terence Wilkinson? What did he do? Was he important, too?’
Jennifer laughed. ‘Hardly. I remember my parents thought he was a failure in every way. His various so-called business ventures collapsed every time. Coral’s family despised him, and they were in despair when she seemed to fall for him. But then he was very good looking back in the late fifties, according to my mother, and the more her parents tried to break them up the more charming he seemed to Coral. In the end, it was quite easy for him to seduce her. She found out she was expecting Joseph, and the wedding was a done deal. But I know my mother was adamant that he’d got her pregnant on purpose and wangled his way into the family. It was all about the money with him, not poor Coral herself.’
‘He sounds awful,’ Sally said with a shudder. ‘Poor Coral. And poor Joseph and Bethany having a father like that. I presume he wasn’t much of one to his kids?’ she asked, looking at Clive.
He hesitated then shrugged. ‘I can’t say Joseph ever spoke much about him either. When I arrived in Tuppenny Bridge he’d only just passed away and Joseph only ever mentioned him briefly. Mind, it was without any sign of affection, so possibly not.’
It wasn’t for him to reveal some of the more private things Joseph had confided in him. There was a lot he could say about Terence Wilkinson, but what good would it do now?
‘Sounds like quite a tragic family,’ Sally said with a sigh. ‘Coral and Terence were obviously not happy together, and Joseph and this Bethany had some sort of falling out and didn’t speak all them years, until it was too late to make it up.’ She shook her head. ‘Such a shame.’
‘And now Bethany’s back in her old home,’ Rafferty added. ‘Must be a strange feeling for her after all this time. Clearly Joseph wanted her to have the place, though, so he must have had some affection for her, even if they hadn’t spoken for all those years.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jennifer asked, sounding puzzled.
‘Well, he didn’t leave a will, did he? He must have known that Whispering Willows would go to her by default, as his only living relative, so he must have cared enough about her to let that happen or he’d have made damn sure his will stated otherwise.’ Rafferty shook his head. ‘I can’t quite believe Joseph was so careless in that regard, you know. Everyone should make a will. The trouble it can cause when people don’t bother…’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jennifer said, her eyes wide with amazement. ‘You’ve got that all wrong.’
Clive’s heart thudded as everyone paused in their eating and stared at Jennifer in surprise. ‘You mean, Joseph did make a will?’ he asked, hardly daring to believe it.
‘I mean,’ Jennifer said, glancing round at them all, ‘Whispering Willows wasn’t Joseph’s to leave to anyone. The house belonged to Bethany. It always did.’