Chapter Thirty-Two
Odette had been trying to read her new book with decreasing success over the past half hour. She had been looking forward to this new release for months and had picked it up yesterday from her local bookshop. All she wanted to do was lose herself in the salt marshes of Norfolk and find out what the wonderful archaeologist was going to do next. However, each paragraph was interrupted by raised voices. James and Hal were fighting again. This past month had been nothing but fights. For a while she thought something was going on with Hal. He appeared lighter and more optimistic. Ending his engagement had clearly been a blessing to him; she had watched him relax and laugh and he seemed utterly unconcerned that that wretched baggage had gone and married someone else at their own wedding. She had been mortified for him, but now was delighted to see how little he seemed to care. In fact when she endured the gossipy commiserations, she was able to take a leaf from his book and brush it off as beneath notice. She was also delighted to see his charity unfolding. This morning she had met a lovely young man called Sam who was an absolute treasure.
But the financial mess they were all in, seemed to be having an effect on Hal. He was increasingly becoming morose. She thought things were on the turn when he came back from London with a rescue package for the finances. Certainly they appeared to have stepped back from the edge of bankruptcy and yet something was still troubling him.
Now he was shouting at his father as loudly as James was shouting back at him. This was unusual. Her stepson was always the pacifier; what on earth was going on? She picked up her book again just as the door to the office slammed shut with tremendous force. ‘?a alors!’ She muttered to herself as she put her book down, and headed towards the office just as she heard the patio doors in the breakfast room crash against their frame. Changing direction, she headed towards the breakfast room and watched as her stepson stormed off across the garden towards the woods. Gently, she closed the doors properly and hoped all the glass panes were still secure in their wooden frames. The Lord know, they couldn’t afford to have them repaired right now.
Deciding it was probably time to interfere she headed back to the study. As she started to open the door James roared ‘Get out’ and she quickly retreated. Moving around the house she grabbed a toasting fork and a napkin and tied it around the end. Returning to the study, this time she knocked on the door calling his name. As she did so, she opened the door ajar and waved her little white flag. She heard a grunt of laughter and gently entered the office.
The room was in chaos. At some point all the papers on the desk had been swept off onto the floor along with the laptop and lamp shade. The paper basket had been kicked over and the bust of Wellington had been knocked of its pedestal. As James watched Odette survey the damage he saw her mouth twitch at Wellington’s distress.
‘Your man Napoleon should have taken a leaf out of your book,’ he said pointing to her flag. As she bent to pick it up James stopped her. ‘This is my mess. I’ll fix it. At least I can get that right.’ He paused unable to express all that he had got wrong.
Walking to his side Odette knelt down beside him and lay her head on his lap. For a while neither spoke, and Odette prayed Hal didn’t return before she understood what the problem was. She knew if he returned now, the fighting would resume and both men might go a step too far. In fact, looking around the room she wondered if that hadn’t already happened.
‘James, my love, nothing you can say will make me love you any less but it is hurting me to see you in pain. To see you both in pain. Please, what is happening?’
James stroked her hair; he was so ashamed and he had no idea how to resolve things. Maybe the best thing would be to just get it out in the open. Declare himself a fool and see where the chips fell. His son despised him, now it was time for his wife to hear the truth.
‘I’ve betrayed my son.’ He felt Odette’s body tense but he continued. ‘I sold the Fabergé flowers.’
‘I thought they had been stolen?’
‘As it happens, I think you were right. I do think Bianca stole that set, but that was an insurance copy. Hal didn’t know.’ He absently stroked his wife’s hair and cast his eye vacantly back to the past, to a time when he was once again, out of his depth. ‘Donkey’s years ago, our insurance company had suggested that if we wanted to display them that we had a copy made and kept the genuine one here in the safe. Hal was only a small boy at the time and he loved picking it up and watching as the little blooms swung on their stalks. So it made sense to have a replica. When his mother died, she specifically named the flowers as going to him. I mean, obviously everything is going to him, but she named these.’
‘Did Hal know about the copy?’
‘No, it just never came up. It certainly didn’t seem important. Not when we were burying Eleanor and after that…’ he trailed off, looking out of the window and across the grounds to where a large tree stood in the park land. Eleanor’s great-great-grandfather had no doubt had that oak planted just so, so that a future generation could look out and admire it. ‘The thing is, all this was in her blood, oh I mean my family did well enough, but Eleanor had all this in her veins. When we married, she joked she was looking forward to just being a wife and mother. It was only when she died that I discovered how much I had relied on her counsel and how much she did behind the scenes. When she had gone, I started to make mistakes. Little things. But then I tried out new things and they mostly didn’t work either. Eventually I saw I needed a clean slate financially, so I sold the Fabergé. I was constantly drunk; I wasn’t thinking and I sold it.’
‘You were still grieving.’
‘No excuse.’ He took in a deep breath. ‘And then I met you. And I never thought I could love again but it, you, were like a tidal wave. I wanted you to notice me and admire me. I began to show off. I hadn’t learnt my lesson. I started borrowing money again. I took out a mortgage. I wanted to wine and dine you. In the end all I have done is disgrace myself.’
He sat in silence looking out over the oak tree again waiting for Odette to speak. He felt her move, and as she looked up at him, he could see tears of mascara slowly smudging down her face. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her cheeks. ‘I am so sorry, my darling Odette.’
Odette sighed, how to fix this sorry mess? ‘Come on, my dear, help me up, I’m not a teenager anymore.’ Leaning on his hand she stood up and removed some of the fallen papers from the other armchair. She took a deep breath, careful how to phrase her words.
‘James, I love you. Not your beautiful house, or your fine grounds, or your prosperous bank account. I love you. I love your love of the countryside. I love your sense of humour. I love your gallantry. I love your passion. And now I love your honesty as well. That has taken great courage.’
‘Didn’t you hear what I just said?’
‘You’ve messed up financially and you sold something that wasn’t yours to sell. Yes, I heard you. And I still love you.’
James stood up and went over to the decanter to pour himself a whiskey, offering Odette a glass. It was only just after lunch but neither cared.
Now it was James’s turn to take a deep breath. ‘So, what do I do now?’
Odette was startled, this was the first time he had ever asked her for help and she realised she may have been remiss in not fully understanding her proud English husband. She always thought he had everything under control and had happily left him to it. All she had done was work to bring father and son back together, and make sure the domestic and social life of the house ran smoothly. It had never occurred to her to enquire after the estate or the business.
‘Is it possible to buy back the Fabergé?’ James snorted, so she quickly moved on. ‘C’est tout. Maybe instead you step back more and let Hal have the full running of the estate? We could go on a little holiday maybe. Or spend some time at Honfleur?’
After her first husband had died, Odette couldn’t bear to sell her home and had kept it. She and James would stay there from time to time and he enjoyed it.
‘Hmm, good shooting around there.’
Odette sipped her whiskey. She had said enough. The rest now needed to come from him, but in her mind she was already walking across the French countryside.
***
Hal looked up as James walked into the study. He was about to ask what the latest batch of e-mails were about, but looking at his father he stopped. What was the point? Over the past few weeks James had lost all of his bravado; he looked like a tired old man and Hal was worried for his health. Badgering him about foolish decisions was not going to get them out of this mess. Yesterday’s row had been apocalyptical but it hadn’t changed anything. At least now he knew the full extent of this situation, and for just how long they had been sailing too close to the wind.
When his father had confessed that he had sold the snowdrops in an attempt to shore up the estate, Hal had been horrified and had exploded. As his father roared back at him the situation had quickly got out of hand and Hal had had to leave the house. Both men had already traded insults and Hal knew he was close to saying things he could never take back. He’d lost his mother; he didn’t want to lose his father as well. Looking at him now Hal was reminded of just how old his father was.
‘Can we walk? I want to discuss something with you?’ James almost looked humble. Even his demeanour had changed; from a blustering arrogant patriarch he had shrunk to a hesitant apologist. Hal didn’t have the time to go for strolls around the estate, he was doing all he could to save it, but what else was he going to say? Pushing his chair back, the two men walked out through the patio windows and down to the flower gardens that Hal’s mother had established.
‘I’m going to leave.’ James waved at his son, ‘No, hear me out. I’ve made a god-awful mess of this, and if I stay, I’ll only get in your way. Odette still has her house in Normandy and we are going to move there. Somewhere smaller and more manageable. I’ve already spoken to the solicitors and have arranged for everything to be signed over to you. The deeds, the accounts, the lot. We’ll be leaving next week.’
Hal looked at his father in disbelief. He had screwed it all up and now was running away?
‘Are you joking?’
‘No of course not. Why would you say that?’ Some of James’s defensive bluster rose to the surface. ‘It’s what you’ve always wanted, now you get to run the estate without interference.’
‘Why would I say that?! Are you kidding? I need you here; I can’t do this all by myself.’
James softened. ‘You’ll be fine. I didn’t mean to sound so petulant but the truth of the matter is that I’ve made a mess of all this. If you need me, I’ll only be a phone call away. I’ve even heard that the French have the internet, so we can do that face call thing.’
James pulled out some weeds from around the base of the roses. ‘Look, son, the fact of the matter is, I’m proud of you, and I’m ashamed of myself. Selling the Fabergé was so wrong of me, but at the time I was drowning and trying to cover it all up. Everywhere I look at the moment is like a sore wound. And I—’ he broke off and tried to clear his throat, his voice breaking. Abruptly, he turned and walked back to the house, leaving Hal standing amongst the flower beds appalled at his father’s distress.
Hal sat on the stone bench and remembered chatting with his mother about how she had envisaged the swathes of colours, blooming in soft clouds of pinks and blues. Together they had dug the soil and planted various tubers and seedlings. Now they bloomed and drifted in the breeze, the sweet smell of roses reminding him of better days; but now his mother was dead and his father was leaving. With all his heart he had wanted to sit here with his child and show them the same things but as he struggled daily to get the finances under control he wondered if he was going to have to sell the place off to the highest bidder. His father had let his mother down, he had let his son done. Now Hal saw the parallels all over again. He had let Paddy down but he would not fail his child or his mother. Vollen was theirs and he would fight to save it. Even if he had to sacrifice any work on his charity until the estate was secured.
With a deep sigh he headed back to the house. He would try to convince his father to stay, talk it through with him, but when he got there, his car was gone and he and Odette must have gone out for the day. He swore out loud. When had his father become such a coward? Hal returned to his spreadsheet and e-mails and continued on. What else was there to do?