A Married Man Part 41

'I won't say goodbye, but yes. When you deem the time to be right, Lucy, I'd like that very much.'

I reached up and kissed his thin, weathered cheek. 'Bye, David.'

'Bye, my love. And good luck.'

He went off down the path. I watched him go, pensive. Turned to find Jack, standing behind me.

'A nice man,' I murmured.

'And a good man, too. A rare commodity, these days.' We watched as he got into his car. I was very aware of Jack's presence. Close to me. He cleared his throat.

'Well, I've said my goodbyes in the kitchen, Luce. I'll just pop in on Lucas, then I'll be on my way too.'

'Oh! Really?' I turned, panicky. 'Where are you going?' 'To collect my car, which for various complicated reasons is still in another part of London, and then I'm not sure.'

He regarded me as we stood in the doorway together, his blue eyes steady, clear as the August sky behind him. I wondered what he was thinking. About last night? Surely. Surely we both were. How I'd demanded that kiss, and how he'd obliged but with such a curious look in his eye. I glanced down and scuffed my toe on the doormat. Embarra.s.sed, that was it, I realised with a jolt. That was the curious look I'd yet to pinpoint. Not for himself, but for me. As if his kid sister had suddenly behaved badly, taken her dress off at a party, danced starkers on a table.

'Back in a mo ...' He slid off sideways, into the sitting room.

I heard him joking with Lucas, saw them through the crack in the door. Lucas standing up to embrace him, kiss him on both cheeks in his continental way, Jack responding and picking up the book Lucas was reading, asking if he normally read such tosh. 'I mean, look at the cover, Lucas, come on!'

My father roared with laughter. 'Lurid, I agree, and quite filthy in parts had Maisie peering over my shoulder in bed last night with eyes like saucers but readable tosh, and makes a refres.h.i.+ng change from some highfalutin poetry I know. Certainly makes a change from some of your earnest oeuvres!'

'Earnest oeuvres? Page-turning poetry mate, that's my line.'

And so it went on, the bantering and the teasing, with me listening at the door and thinking, with a sinking heart, that everyone, it seemed, literally everyone my parents, my children could behave in this lighthearted, easy manner with this man, whilst the one person who would like to, was standing foolishly by, incapable of joining in, because well, because of some ghastly barrier I'd erected between us. But then, perhaps he was nervous of me, too? Not embarra.s.sed, so much as paralysed with I hesitated ... longing? I knew instinctively this was risible, ridiculous, but nevertheless, my heart gave an exultant kick. Yes, perhaps that was it. I forged on, regardless. After all, he'd done so much for me, I thought eagerly; gently helping me upstairs last night, putting me to bed, hiding his face in the gunroom this morning so he could tell the police with impunity he hadn't seen me, and then coming all this way with David to give me the good news, behaving well. Like a brother, actually, Lucy. Don't get excited. Or even your husband's cousin. But like a lover? I bit my lip. No. And yet that kiss, I thought, as hope resurged. Oh G.o.d, that kiss! I rocked in my Docksiders on the doormat. He reappeared, at my elbow.

'Right. I'll be off then.'

'Can I come with you?' I gasped wantonly.

He looked surprised. A smile played on his lips. 'Of course'

See? Courteous as ever. But quietly amused. Quietly guffawing, actually. I grabbed Maisie's coat from a hook and hid my flus.h.i.+ng face as I pretended to look for some keys in the pocket. At it again, Lucy. No shame. No, none at all, I realised with a pang as I clutched the keys. I just couldn't help it. Couldn't let him go like this. I dashed down the hall to tell Maisie I was off. She and the boys were engrossed in their flour fug, shrieking with laughter at full volume. They hardly even registered my departure, although were Maisie's eyes just a trifle too averted, her smile too knowing, as she watched me fly back down the hall?

Either way, my feet felt as if they had wings on as I shut the door behind me. I felt reckless now. Exhilarated. My ordeal was over, and I was a normal human being again, one of the mult.i.tude, on an ordinary August morning, when the worst crime I could commit would be to make a fool of myself in front of an old friend, not to be had up for neglect before a child probation officer.

I sighed with pleasure as we stepped out into the sunny London streets, white stucco buildings to either side, blue sky above, and beneath my feet, pavement, glorious b.l.o.o.d.y pavement, and and people, for G.o.d's sake, all around.

'Isn't this wonderful?' I sighed, sniffing the air.

'You mean the carbon monoxide?' He sniffed too. 'Yes, I must say I'm rather partial to it, but then you and I have always been city slickers at heart, haven't we, Luce?' He smiled down.

You and I. Those sweet, delicious words. Totally innocent and innocuous of course, but nonetheless, they felled me. Crashed over my head like a tidal wave.

'Yes!' I agreed, coming up for air. 'Yes, definitely. Can't bear the country actually. All that Mother Nature c.r.a.p load of b.o.l.l.o.c.ks!'

He looked surprised. I cringed. Oooh ... too strong, Lucy, too cra.s.s. Now you're sounding ignorant and stupid. Why couldn't I get it right? Why was I so nervous? 'I mean, no, obviously the country's lovely,' I reasoned, 'really lovely, with you know, trees and things, but what I meant was-'

'D'you want to get a bus?' he interrupted, a hand on my arm, as one drew up beside us.

'A bus?' I looked at his hand on my arm. Beamed as if he'd offered me a sapphire engagement ring. 'Ooh, yes please!'

He shot me a bemused look. 'Steady. Not that exciting. But it could take us ages to get a taxi and I can't bear the Tube. Come on, it's a nice big red one which will have you frothing at the mouth judging by your present demeanour, and we can even go upstairs. If you're a good girl I'll buy you some sweets when we get off, too, no end of treats.' He hustled me aboard and jumped on behind me. I clambered upstairs, giggling breathlessly, stupidly.

'Any idea where we're going?' As if it mattered.

'Of course. Come on, right down the front. You can pretend to drive.'

I laughed some more, ridiculously happy, and high as a kite as I swung down the top aisle in front of him like a big kid, a hand grabbing at each pole. This was better. This was fine. He'd got the merry banter going and we could hide behind it, in the lurching conviviality of a London bus, until we found our feet. As we sat down on the front seat though, my mouth dried. All the merry banter dropped off me and dribbled through the grooved wooden floor below. It was so long since I'd been on a bus and I'd forgotten how small the seats were, how incredibly squished we'd be. Our legs bottoms, actually pressing together, really quite hard. I gulped. Heavens. I leaned forward and gripped the handrail. No. Silly position. All sort of bent double. I couldn't lean back though, it would look unsure, uncool.

London rumbled past beneath us and leaning forward at a ridiculous angle, I concentrated hard. Concentrated on the meandering crowds ebbing and flowing, bathed in the glorious summer suns.h.i.+ne; pretty girls in short skirts, dapper men incity suits, jackets over shoulders, dodging and jostling on the pavements, all with quick eyes, a purpose. Darting into delicatessens to seize a sandwich and a latte, into bookshops for a quick browse, talking urgently into their mobiles, all at the double, and all seen through the leaves of rustling plane trees which brushed the window, their pale, lacy leaves fanning out and flickering against a clear blue sky. I sighed with pleasure, despite my discomfort.

Jack s.h.i.+fted slightly to give me more room. 'A very big sigh. Happy to be back?'

I smiled and sat back, determined to be sensible. To get a grip. 'Very. Although to tell you the truth, half an hour ago my worst nightmare was about to unfold and my boys were going to be ripped from my clutches, so right now, I'd be happy to be anywhere. A Russian salt mine would do nicely, north face of the Eiger, splendid. But no, it is nice to be back. I may be shallow and urban, may have failed miserably to commune with nature, but this feels like home to me. The boys feel it too, I know.' I gazed down. 'Not that I have anywhere to house them in this splendid city, of course, but I refuse to think about that just yet. We'll stay with Maisie and Lucas for a bit.'

'That's not quite true you know,' said Jack slowly.

My tummy, unaccountably, turned over.

'Sorry?'

'Well, contrary to what you think, you're not as church-mouse poor as you may believe'

'I'm not?' I looked at him, startled, as the bus lurched round a corner.

'Well, where d'you think Rose got all the money to do that sumptuous barn conversion? To buy all that elegant Conran furniture that went up in flames?'

'Out of her own pocket, I presumed.'

'And so did I. Which is mighty magnanimous when you think about it. Particularly since she and Archie were strapped for cash and belly-aching about trivial things like reglazing the greenhouse and planting a few shrubs. But then of course, we all knew you were a different matter. You and the boys were her cause. She had an absolute mission to keep you there at all costs, so one a.s.sumed she just found the money, somehow. And so she did. In Ned's trust fund.'

I stared. 'What?'

'Were you aware that he had a trust fund?'

'Well, yes. Yes, I was. I think it would have amounted to something when he was thirty-five, the theory being that that was when he'd need it most mortgages, school fees etc but Jack, Ned died. So I didn't think ... I mean, I a.s.sumed .

'It wouldn't come to fruition?'

'Well, no.'

'And no one told you otherwise?'

I flushed. G.o.d, I'd been so lax. Hadn't even thought to ask. Wouldn't even have known who to ask. But then, it had been the last thing on my mind at the time.

'How old would Ned have been this summer?'

'Thirty-five: 'Exactly. And that fact occurred to me too, recently, as Rose was charging around buying up Harrods, so I checked with my mother.'

'Your mother?'

'Archie's sister. She's a trustee.'

'Oh! Yes of course.''You knew?'

'David told me.'

'Ah. Well, what you may not know is that she spends much of her time jetting around Cap Ferrat, so she wasn't in a position to lay her hands on any doc.u.ments when I rang her a while back. Last week though, she was back for a friend's funeral, so I bullied her into going through all her drawers in Lowndes Square. She finally found the trust contract at the bottom of her desk. The funds were to be made available regardless of Ned's death, and were to be, and I quote, "bequeathed to his immediate family and dependants": 'Oh!' I sat up. 'That's us!'

'Or her.'

'Who?'

'Rose: 'You mean-'

'That's how she chose to interpret it. Rose who incidentally was a trustee herself, there were four of them knew that you were unaware of the terms, and managed to get her hands on the money. She only needed three out of the four signatures to achieve it, and that she did. Now admittedly, she spent it on you and the boys which would be her fall-back position if anything was queried but I think "immediate family and dependants" was frankly, more directed at you.'

'Of course it b.l.o.o.d.y was! Good grief, running around spending our money Jesus, Jack, it gets worse! She gets worse'

'Except that from her point of view, she probably reasoned that since the money was bequeathed by Archie's father, she was just as ent.i.tled to it, as an in-law, as you were. And you know what they say. Where there's a will there's a relative.'

'But surely, the other trustees I mean your mother was abroad, sure, and Rose signed for herself but she must have got the other two, whoever they were, to agree?'

'The aunts.' He grinned. 'Cynthia and Violet. And of course Violet didn't have a clue what was going on. Signed with a flourish, I should think, thrilled to bits to be let loose with a fountain pen, probably added some hearts and Smiley faces too. But it was Cynthia who originally alerted me. She came to find me in the study one day in quite a state wringing her hands, stomping up and down in filthy wellies, a tiara strung round her neck on a piece of binder twine said she'd been worried about it for some time. Rose had evidently got her and Violet to sign a piece of paper which she hadn't much liked the look of. To do with Ned's inheritance she thought, but she wasn't entirely sure, because Rose hadn't let her read the whole doc.u.ment. What Rose had promised though, in measured tones, with those steely blue eyes of hers, was that if Cynthia didn't sign, she could say goodbye to her precious herd of cattle. That they would no longer be accommodated at Netherby, and would find themselves at the market.'

'G.o.d, what a-' I bit my lip.

'Quite. It also explains why the aunts took to wearing their jewellery at all times. They were convinced Rose was after that, too. Went to bed in it, apparently.'

We were travelling towards the park now. Behind forbidding iron railings, acres of soft, warm green spread away from us on into the distance.

'So, is there . . I hesitated.

'Any left? Well, it's taken a fair battering obviously, courtesy of the luxurious barn et al, but there's enough. Enough to find a place of your own, for instance. Get a flat for you and the boys.'

'Really?' I breathed. 'But,' I frowned, 'maybe it should be saved? You know, for the boys. Perhaps it should stay intact, for when they're older. Maybe that's what Ned would have wanted?'

He shrugged. 'Maybe. That's another possibility, but it's there, if you need it. And frankly, I don't think Ned would have wanted you to struggle'

'No' I inched forward to the edge of the seat. Gripped the handrail again. 'No, he wouldn't. He never mentioned it, you know,' I said quietly. 'I mean, I knew it was there, was aware of it, but vaguely. It wasn't discussed. Almost as if he was ashamed of it. Ashamed to be privileged'

He smiled. 'Very Ned. The Trustafarian tag was hardly his style, was it?'

'No. It wasn't.'

As we trundled down Kensington Church Street I plunged deep into thought. Yes, how marvellous. Wonderful, in fact. Enough money to start again, in a flat, here, in London. Of course it was wonderful, but I stole a sidelong glance at Jack. 'You and the boys' That's what he'd said. Now why should that make me feel flat? Deflated? Why not elated, thrilled to bits to be solvent, self-sufficient again? A woman of means, for G.o.d's sake? I swallowed. Because oh, I don't know. Because here I was, still on my own again, somehow. Pathetic, but I couldn't help it. Should be ecstatic, but ...

'Yes, you and Lavinia will both be women of property,' he mused beside me.

'Lavinia?' I came to.

'Oh yes, didn't I say? Now that the male line has been totally exhausted, she really will get Netherby now.' He smiled. 'I spoke to her about it this morning, actually. And despite her mother's death, she couldn't resist a little skip of excitement, a quick clasping of hands. No more handsome rectories, you see.'

'You mean-'

'Well, she doesn't have to get married now, does she? And I don't think she ever wanted to, really. She's const.i.tutionally unsuited to it, would bully some poor chap to an early grave. No, it was the thought of having no stately pile that was driving her to all those dates. Fear of ending up in a cottage in the village, beholden to whoever was at the big house, like the aunts. Now, when Archie dies, she'll be mistress of Netherby. In fact, before Archie dies, if you ask me. Oh, she'll run that place like an oiled watch, take over where Rose left off, hold the reins very firmly. Archie and Pinkie can revert to babyhood again, stick their thumbs in their mouths and let her run the whole show.'

I smiled, nodding. 'She'll love it. Although actually, don't be so sure about there being no man beside her. A certain Roddy Taylor set her pulse racing the other day, and he was only Mock Tudor.'

'Roddy?' He raised an eyebrow. 'Nice chap. I was at school with him. Wouldn't be bullied by her either.' He sighed. 'Ah well, there you go, maybe Netherby will be a proper family home again. Filled with little Taylors. Rose will be spinning in her grave.'

'And Archie?'

'Oh, as long as he sees out his days there, I shouldn't think he gives a toss.'

I smiled. 'I'm pleased for her, for Lavinia. She'll certainly do a better job than Hector would. Ned, too, for that matter, he wouldn't have wanted it. Although maybe she'll offer it to Hector? When Archie dies?'

'She's already said as much, but Hector turned it down flat.' Jack's mouth twitched. 'No, apparently he and Rozanna are setting up in a cottage in Cornwall. In a picturesque rural idyll on the north coast, well away from prying eyes, but with their painting and their lurve to keep them warm.'

I grinned. 'Good for them. And good for Lavinia. She's the best man for the job.'

'Quite, just as it's a crying shame Princess Anne will never be Queen could show that soppy brother of hers a thing or two no, this is the best result. And I'll bet she'll make the place sing for its supper, too. There won't be ma.s.sive debts and holes in the roof and disorganised, gratuitous guided tours, but proper pay-a-tenner-at-the-door tours, tea rooms, souvenir shops, corporate events in the park. And why not? Better than relying on trust funds to buoy it up.'

'She'll be in heaven.' I imagined her, striding around the grounds right now, hands in her tardy pockets, pearls swinging, heart pounding excitedly, making plans; always marginalised by her mother, but not now; trying decorously to hide her glee, but with a broad smile br.i.m.m.i.n.g, whilst Archie and Pinkie languished in the shade of the huge umbrella on the terrace, feet up in their Lloyd Loom chairs, gazing on, happy to let her take the reins.

'She'll be kind to the aunts, too. She always had a soft spot for them. Let them move back in. Look after them a bit.'

'No doubt. She sent her love, by the way, Lavinia. When she heard what Rose had done, she was horrified. Said she'd like to come up and talk to you. Sort out a few things, apologise for her mother.'

'She doesn't have to do that,' I said slowly, 'but I'd like to see her, anyway. I don't want,' I struggled, 'well, I don't want to cut the boys off entirely. One day, I think I'll tell them about David, but Netherby's still their grandparents' home. I don't want to sever the connections with Lavinia and Pinkie.' I turned for rea.s.surance. 'D'you think that's right?'

'I do,' he said after a moment's thought. 'But I also think you'll find things will take their own shape. Things have a habit of falling into place by themselves. Ben and Max will make up their own minds about where they want to go, where they think their roots are, who they want to see, and who they regard as their grandparents and aunts and uncles. I would just tell them the truth at an age when they can take it on board, and let nature take its course. Here we are. We need to get off here.'

I glanced up, surprised. We were in Chelsea now, right down by the river. The sun was dappling the water black and blue, and colourful barges were bobbing jauntily at its edge. On the other side of the road, the glinting windows of tall, brownstone buildings with ornate balconies and the odd blue plaque dotted here and there, gazed imperiously across to the more modern power station, opposite. I followed Jack downstairs. He jumped off ahead of me, and set off across the main road at a pace. In my haste to follow, I forgot to look left, and had to sidestep a lorry, flus.h.i.+ng as it sounded its horn andswept past me. Thanks Jack, I thought, jogging to catch up. On the other side of the road, he marched a few hundred yards further on, then turned smartly left down a little back street. He strode on past a pub an entirely retrograde step in my view then swung a right down another little side street until 'G.o.d, what's the flaming rush?' I yelled, stopping and holding my side. 'You're going at a million miles an hour, Jack, and anyway, where are you going? What are we doing here?'

He stopped, just ahead of me. Turned. 'Oh, didn't I say? This is where I left my car. Over there.'

I peered further ahead to where he was pointing and realised where we were. Cheyne Walk, or its environs. One of its many tributaries, anyway, and at the end of the road was his ancient Mercedes. It was parked outside the pretty blue mews house, the one with the cascading window boxes full of geraniums and lobelia. The one with the equally pretty French girl inside. My tummy churned. I even remembered her name. Pascale. This was Pascale's house.

Chapter Thirty-two.