Chapter Twenty-Four
It nearly killed Diane to admit it to herself as she stood on Freddy’s doorstep on a storm-darkened Sunday afternoon. But her father had been right about Gareth.
For years she’d genuinely thought that he’d put up with her parents’ awfulness for her. It wasn’t until she refused the money from her father’s estate that it became plain that all those years of exemplary behaviour had been no more than an investment. Gareth had possessed a fine perception of which side his bread was likely to be buttered. All he had to do was wait it out and half of Diane’s parents’ money would surely come.
She remembered his face, black with fury, when she’d refused Freddy’s offer to share the inheritance. ‘You’re entitled! It’s your right.’ Whereas, it was clear to her now, he’d meant he was entitled and it was his right.
To force the memories from her mind, Diane admired the green sweeps of Freddy’s lawn, the elegant might of the monkey puzzle tree and the banks of lilies on the shady side of the garden. And she thought of James.
She seemed to be thinking of James every waking moment.
His smiling eyes, the hot sex in the back of his Merc, the way he’d accepted her decision to end things before they began with huge regret but no word of recrimination. It was astonishing how empty she felt without him. Which just went to show — you could miss something you’d never had. Or only had once in the back of—
She twitched her thoughts away at the sound of the front door opening. Her brother blinked at her through his glasses. ‘Diane!’
‘Hello, Freds.’
Freddy grasped her hands and kissed each of her cheeks. ‘It’s been too long since I saw you.’
Diane found she actually had to swallow a lump in her throat at the pleasure in her brother’s eyes, always magnified by his glasses. She wished suddenly that she hadn’t allowed Gareth’s animosity to make it difficult for her to visit her brother.
He showed her to the conservatory that wrapped around the back of the house. One of the doors to the garden was open. ‘This is my favourite spot. I can sit here in all weathers and never get wet.’ He halted suddenly. ‘Anyway, what’s it to be? Cup of tea?’
‘Bring the pot.’ She chose a thickly padded cane chair and kicked off her shoes to settle back and watch the purple sky become lower and darker until smudgy clouds dropped the first raindrops as big as pennies on the yellow York stone of the patio. Faster. Harder. Noisier. Until the rain was pelting the windows. Freddy reappeared. ‘I hoped we’d have a storm — that’s why I was in here.’ He wound up the roof blinds so they could watch the water washing summer leaves from the glass as shrubs thrashed in the blustery wind. From outside came the rotting smell that came with rain after a long dry spell.
Admiring thunder crash and lightning flash, Diane propped her feet on the coffee table. ‘Do you think you should shut the door?’
Freddie poured the tea. ‘I’ll mop up before S?an comes home.’
Lightning hung among the clouds as the next roll of thunder shook the sky. The rain redoubled, began to hiss. Diane tipped her head to watch it sluicing down the roof.
A puddle began to spread across the terracotta tiling towards them. Gleefully, Freddy lifted his feet to join Diane’s on the coffee table. He had to raise his voice to be heard as the rain lashed. ‘This is exhilarating.’
Diane laughed. ‘I suppose it is. It’s a while since we had an adventure together.’
‘The last one was when you pushed me out of the tree house—’
‘You fell!’
‘Only because I jumped at you and you moved. I broke my arm and my fingers came up exactly like sausages.’
‘And what about being nearly cut off by the tide at Wells? Do you remember how Dad bellowed?’
‘Missing our lift home after a party in a barn.’
‘Getting drunk on whisky.’
‘Getting drunk on all kinds of things.’
‘You thinking you’d got Miranda Thingy pregnant.’
Freddy choked on his tea, spattering dark drops down his polo shirt, eyes watering behind his glasses. ‘I didn’t know you knew about that. I still come out in a cold sweat when I remember. I used to pray that either she’d get her period or I’d get knocked over by a bus before Dad found out. Luckily it was the former. She finished with me in relief.’
‘I would’ve tried to talk to him for you.’
‘You were always a good sister.’ He pushed back the dark, slightly old-fashioned wing of hair that fell over his eyes. ‘I wish you’d taken your half of the money.’
She sipped her tea. Not bad, but could’ve been stronger. The thunder’s bark moved further away and the rain dropped a note. The puddle on the floor had crept under the coffee table. ‘When I married Gareth I knew I was letting myself in for a lifetime without frills. But I also knew that there were more important things than money.’ She sighed. ‘But I am here kind of on the trail of filthy lucre. Have you still got that jewellery for Bryony? She’s twenty-one in September and I’d like her to have it.’
Freddy turned his head slightly, eyebrows lifting. ‘Of course I still have it. It’s in the safe. I’m glad you’re taking it.’
‘There’s something else.’ She hesitated, feeling foolish. ‘I wouldn’t ask this, except it’s for Bryony. Do you remember Mum and Dad buying her ￡100 worth of premium bonds for her first Christmas, but not actually handing them over?’
‘Do I! The Christmas Day from hell. Yes, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that. There was an account with about ￡1,000 in it, and I think that must be the prizes it’s won over the years. And I cashed in the ￡100, too, so that can be added to it.’
Diane gazed at her brother with affection. He was such a soppy old sod in his sheepskin slippers and golf shirt. ‘Oh, Freddy. You’re a bloody bad liar. There were no premium bonds in Dad’s things, were there?’
Freddy pulled a shamed face. ‘No.’
‘And therefore no account with ￡1,000 in?’
‘No.’
‘He never bought those bonds, did he?’
A big grimace. ‘I didn’t find any evidence of them.’ He hesitated. ‘I never talked to you about it because Gareth asked me for them after Dad died and I told him the bonds weren’t there. He asked for ￡100 out of the estate and I said only once I’d talked to you about it. He didn’t seem to want to take it any further.’
Diane looked out at the dripping garden and heaved a great sigh. Puddles stood on the lawn, the earth baked too hard for absorbency. ‘I didn’t know that. Of course, he might’ve meant to pass the money on to Bryony.’
‘Or keep it safe for her.’ Freddy’s glance was sympathetic. ‘Let me give her the ￡100 — it was promised to her.’
Diane debated. Her first instinct was to refuse. But then she remembered that it wasn’t actually her ￡100. ‘I’ll talk to her about it. She’s going to need money.’ And she told Freddy about Bryony’s pregnancy.
* * *
At home in Purtenon St. Paul, Diane found Bryony sitting at the kitchen table and sighing, the ever-present inhaler beside her. She was wearing panelled maternity jeans that Diane had embroidered and the kind of frown that changed her appearance from elf to imp.
Diane was familiar with that pucker on her daughter’s forehead. She dropped her bag on the kitchen chair. ‘What’s up?’
Bryony shrugged and turned a page of her magazine. ‘We haven’t got a computer and there’s no cyber café in the village. I want to email my friends in Brasilia.’
‘You can come into Peterborough with me when I visit Dad tomorrow, do it then.’
‘Yeah. Guess.’ Another page flipped over. Then, casually, ‘None of my friends here seem free to go out much.’
‘You went out with them last night.’
The magazine shut with a slap. ‘Yeah. Some. But that’s evening. I want to meet my old mates and go shopping and have a laugh. Claudia and Bella, for instance.’
‘Where are Claudia and Bella?’
Bryony’s fingers drummed on the front of the magazine, right on the sensational cover-model’s blinding white teeth. ‘Claudia’s on a gap working in a taverna on a Greek island and getting browner and beautifuller. And Bella’s doing work experience for the BBC in Manchester, meeting loads of cool people.’
Diane washed her hands ready to prepare the evening meal. ‘What? They’ve had the temerity to get a life while you’ve been overseas? Shame on them.’
A reluctant smile curved Bryony’s mouth. ‘Get over yourself, Mother, being a smartmouth doesn’t suit you. I had one phone call, though.’ She hesitated. ‘From Pops.’
Diane smiled. ‘I like him, your new grandfather.’
‘He’s invited me out to dinner, tomorrow evening. He wants for us to get to know each other.’
‘Sounds wonderful. I’ll make sure you can have the car.’
Bryony hesitated. ‘Well . . . he says he’s sending a car for me. You know — like with a driver.’
Water dripped on the floor as Diane turned to stare. ‘Wow! Get you.’
Bryony blushed. ‘It’s really cool, isn’t it?’
‘Really.’ Turning back to the chicken breasts that she was washing, Diane debated whether to go to the fag of peeling potatoes or whether to microwave the chicken then chop it up and chuck it in with some vegetables and a jar of curry sauce. Microwave, she decided. ‘So, did you meet George last night?’
Bryony’s smile faded. ‘Yeah.’
‘Have a good time?’
‘Yeah. OK.’
‘Was he with Tamzin?’ Diane washed her hands again after handling the raw chicken and poked around in the bottom of the fridge for onion, feathery-ended celery and a mini tree of broccoli.
‘Yeah.’
Diane put the oil on to heat and turned the cold water on the vegetables, releasing the smells of onion and celery into the room. ‘They seem to have quite a thing,’ she said, cautiously.
‘Yeah.’
The vegetables didn’t take long to soften and the chicken to par-cook. In ten minutes Diane was able to push the curry into the oven and sit down at the table. ‘I have something to show you.’
‘Yeah?’ Bryony looked up.
From the cupboard under the stairs, Diane took out the dusty black leather box that she’d brought back from Freddy’s and, tipping it, let the jumble of gold slide heavily onto the cheap, scarred old table and all over Bryony’s magazine.
Bryony froze. Aghast eyebrows slid slowly into her hair. ‘Oh, my God. What have you done? Oh, Mum .’
‘What on earth do you think I’ve done?’ Gently, Diane wiggled free a thick gold rope threaded through with fine black ribbon and then a large oval Victorian locket. She frowned as she noticed that the clasp was broken on the locket. She’d have to take it to a good jeweller and get it fixed. Probably cost megabucks. That was the trouble with gold.
Bryony still didn’t touch any of the booty. In fact, she pushed herself slightly from the table. ‘You realise you’re putting your fingerprints on it?’
Bubbles of laughter rose up inside Diane. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Bryony! I haven’t stolen it.’
‘Is it yours?’
There was a round gold brooch that Diane could remember being shown as a child, enamelled heavily with turquoise and red. It had been her grandmother’s. Picking with her fingernail she managed the awkward little clasp. Inside was a tiny brown lock of hair. A baby curl of her mother’s. ‘Well, no, it’s not mine.’ Piece by piece she laid the entire collection in rows so that Bryony could see it. Necklaces, bracelets and bangles, brooches, rings and earrings.
She put her hand over her daughter’s, taking the pleasure of the smooth whiteness of Bryony’s skin next to the rough redness of her own. ‘It’s yours.’
Bryony’s wide-eyed gaze flew to hers. ‘All this? How can it be?’
‘Uncle Freddy’s been keeping it for you in his safe and I think that now you’re nearly twenty-one and going to be a mother it’s time it came to you. It’s your inheritance. These things were your great-grandmother’s — my mother’s mother, that is. And these, my mother’s. Some things will need attention before you wear them. The ribbon on this choker is useless, of course, but the cameo is very fine, apparently. My grandfather bought it for my grandmother when he came back from the Great War.’ The ribbon was frayed and faded to a purply grey from the black she remembered curving around her grandmother’s stocky neck.
Cautiously, as if still not quite believing that what they were doing was permissible, Bryony opened another locket. ‘Who’s in here?’
Diane inspected the faded sepia inside. ‘That’s my mother and her two brothers. And these, here, are Granny’s wedding and engagement rings. And these are Great-Granny’s.’
Bryony picked up her great-grandmother’s engagement ring and twirled it in the light from the window. ‘That stone’s like a small egg. What do you think it is?’
‘It’s a diamond.’
Bryony put the ring down as if it was hot. ‘You’re kidding.’
‘Not at all. She always used to say, “It’s too big to be pretty but that’s what your grandfather wanted me to have.” She used to turn it underneath her finger when she wore gloves so that it wouldn’t snag. Granny’s ring is diamond, too.’ She moved it around with her fingertip on the table, remembering how she’d loved to clean it with a little toothbrush when she was a child.
With an expression of awe, Bryony picked up the diamond cluster and slid it onto her finger. ‘This is mega, too. Your father must’ve loved her.’
That was one thing Diane understood about her father. ‘Oh yes. They were a good team — he was the general and she was his lieutenant.’
They continued sorting through the heavy jewellery, Diane telling her the stories attached to the pieces, dull with dusty neglect.
It didn’t take long for Bryony to ask the obvious question. ‘And why didn’t you inherit all this? Why has it hung around in Uncle Freddy’s safe?’
Diane got up and took the curry out to stir it, hiding her face in the cloud of steam. ‘More of the same old boring feuding, darling. Granddad didn’t want me to have it; Uncle Freddy was desperately embarrassed when Granddad tried to give it to him. We each refused it, and came up with the idea of it coming directly to you. I’m rather glad, now.’ She closed the oven door. ‘It’s only just coming home to me that by refusing my share of Mum and Dad’s estate, how much I cheated you. That’s what your dad said at the time but I wouldn’t listen.’ She explained about the ￡100 of premium bonds, too.
Bryony’s young eyes were shrewd. ‘But if Granddad had wanted me to have it, and your share of his money, he would have left it in a thingy for me. A trust.’
Diane’s head was beginning to ache and she thought how nice it would be to go and lie in a deep bath and shut out the world. And think of James. No! Not think of James. It might make her cry. Cry for the moon.
She took Bryony’s hand. ‘You can go around in circles about the rights and wrongs of it until you’re demented. But I am glad that I accepted this stuff on your behalf. So you’ve got something worth having.’
‘And can I sell it?’ Bryony frowned again.
‘You can do anything you please with it.’
‘Does Dad know I’ve got it? That it was left to me?’
Diane hesitated. ‘No. It was between me and Freddy.’
Bryony nodded slowly. ‘So you didn’t trust him, either?’
Diane flushed. ‘Apparently not.’
‘You kept this a secret from him like he kept his money a secret from you?’
Something shifted unpleasantly inside. ‘I suppose I did,’ she said, slowly. ‘I’m not as blameless as I like to think, am I?’
‘I don’t know.’ Bryony frowned as she wound the rope of gold into a spiral like a snail’s shell. ‘It all depends on motive. You acted to protect what was mine. I’m so angry at Dad.’ Bryony turned to the enamelled locket and touched the curl of hair. ‘But there’s something inside me that makes me want to forgive him.’ She shut the locket and sniffed.
‘He loves you very much. But he’s a very complex character and trusts nobody else’s judgement.’
‘Control freak.’
‘A bit.’
Bryony stood a silver-and-jet bangle up and rolled it from side to side. ‘Can I ask you something else, even if it might hurt you?’
Through the glass aperture in the oven door the curry bubbled and the spicy smell began to fill the room. It was past time to put the rice on but Diane didn’t want to break the spell by leaving the conversation now. ‘Yes, ask,’ she said, softly.
‘Do you think he’s got a woman?’ Bryony blinked.
Diane felt sadness settle over them both like a sootfall. ‘He did have. He says it’s all over.’
Bryony flashed a look of horror at her mother and then concentrated fiercely on rolling the bangle. ‘Don’t you mind ?’
‘Not now.’
Bryony propped her head on her hand and sighed. ‘Are you just being, like, really forgiving? Or don’t you care?’
The kitchen seemed to be getting hotter and hotter. Diane wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. She felt as she used to when her father found her out in some childish misdemeanour and she had to face his questions. ‘What happens between me and your father doesn’t affect how we feel about you—’
‘I know you both love me. I’m asking you whether your feelings for Dad are so crappy that you don’t care if he’s cheating on you?’ A tear rolled off the end of Bryony’s nose and onto the table. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s really, really important to me. It’s not as if I’m a kid any more, but—’
Aching for her daughter, Diane struggled to be diplomatic. ‘At the moment, it’s difficult to feel about him as I once did.’ Please don’t ask me if I’ve cheated on him. ‘We’ve each done things that the other sees as hurtful and selfish. It’s all to do with money. And family. And principles. And who thinks which is most important. But that’s not to say that we won’t get over this.’
‘You’re not planning to leave him?’
Oh James . ‘No immediate plans.’
Bryony stood another bangle up. It was of dark yellow gold and in the shape of bamboo. Diane remembered her grandmother wearing it. It had come from Malaya. Tears dropped off Bryony’s chin. Her voice broke. ‘I still love him.’
‘Of course you do.’ Diane slid her arms around the warm, quivering body of her daughter. ‘I know this is all hard for you.’
Sobs began to escape. ‘When I decided to come home, I was, like, coming home to be safe. I could bear it that Inacio had turned out to be a married bastard who’d seen me as a stupid little girl he could amuse himself with. I could cope with being pregnant, because I was coming home. I knew Dad was in hospital, but I thought he’d soon be out—’
‘And nothing too bad could happen while you’re with me and Dad? That’s all still true, darling. Still true. You’re safe here. I love you. And Dad does, too. We’ve always kept you safe.’
‘And what about the baby?’
Diane’s arms tightened around her daughter. ‘We’ll keep the baby safe, too.’