A Close Connection (13 page)

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Authors: Patricia Fawcett

Tags: #Chick-Lit, #Family Life, #Fiction, #Marriage, #Relationships, #Sagas, #Women's Fiction

BOOK: A Close Connection
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E
LEANOR PUT THE
finishing touches to the display of autumnal flowers on the side table in the hall. The mirror beside it doubled the impact and she stood back admiring the effect.

She loved autumn, even though it was the toughest season of the year in the garden. It was all to do with the dratted leaves of course, and the constant clearing-up, but John kept it all under control leaving her to enjoy the more leisurely jobs of pruning, trimming and cutting flowers for the house. This arrangement in a sturdy ceramic pot was predominantly orange and yellow with masses of greenery. She liked an arrangement to look as if it had just been thrown together in passing, when in fact it had taken all afternoon to get it just right. She had taken evening classes in floral display some years ago, but the woman taking the classes had been officious and patronizing and Eleanor decided that she knew most of what the woman was telling her anyway. She had a creative flair that was essential to the business, for Henry, even with his background in fine arts, was apt to miss things.

She was expecting Nicola for afternoon tea, a meal sadly neglected these days, but she liked the idea of tea and fancy cakes at four o’clock – how civilized – and Nicola looked as if
she needed feeding up having lost weight recently. That, and a vaguely lost look, was enough to cause Eleanor to worry a little and she had confided in Henry, asking if she ought to make a mention of it, because she did not want to upset Nicola or to imply that she was in any way criticizing her. Like her father, Nicola was quick to fly off the handle.

Henry’s opinion was that it was best left and that if anything was worrying her, Nicola would tell her mother in due course. She wouldn’t bet on that, because they had never gone in much for the mother/daughter thing.

Content at last with the flowers, she scrunched up the tissue paper and carried it into the kitchen, checking that everything was on hand for when Nicola arrived. The tray was laid with pretty china cups and the little cakes on the cake-stand looked tempting and she hoped she might persuade Nicola to have at least one. It might only be her daughter she was entertaining, but that did not matter for she disliked letting her considerable standards slip. Lately, with Henry being in a mood most of the time, something to do with work that he was keeping quiet about, it was easy to forgo those standards, but she was damned if she was going to ask what was the matter with him. Like his daughter, he would no doubt deign to tell her in due course, although she was becoming increasingly frustrated with him these days, her willingness to forgive his past misdemeanours in a meltdown.

It was a chilly start to autumn and, going through to the sitting room where she had lit a fire, Eleanor reflected that on cool overcast days like today it was hard to remember those heady summer days, particularly the ones spent with Paula and Alan in Italy.

Henry had been proved wrong for, in her eyes, it had been an excellent holiday. Since then, they had not seen much of each other, although they took the Walkers out for dinner at one of their favourite hotels, following which Paula invited them to
her home and, unable to come up with a suitable excuse on the spur of the moment, she had initially accepted only to pull out at the last minute, pleading illness on Henry’s part.

‘She’ll see right through that,’ Henry said when she told him that should anyone ask he was suffering from sickness and diarrhoea. ‘Why the hell can’t we go along? It won’t hurt us, will it? Are you sure we’re asked to the house?’

‘Absolutely. The invitation was perfectly clear.’

‘Oh, I thought they might book us into some country pub because Alan will want to treat us for a change. I’ve told you before that it upsets him when you insist on paying for every bloody thing. Or rather, insist I pay. Can’t you see how he hates it? He’s a proud man.’

‘Nonsense. We can afford it and they can’t.’

‘Can’t they? What’s this I hear about an inheritance? They didn’t mention it last time we saw them, did they?’

‘No, they didn’t. They were probably embarrassed. Alan’s father died and I gather they’ve been left a few thousand or so which I suppose will be a lot to them.’

‘Good for them. Even a few thousand is not to be sniffed at.’

‘No, but it’s hardly going to change their lives, is it?’

Since dropping out of the invitation on account of poor Henry’s incapacity, she had heard nothing from Paula and, as time went by, she was disinclined to be the first to phone to check if all was well. She had made up her mind, however, that if another invitation was forthcoming she would have to bite the bullet and accept or risk an atmosphere for years to come.

She wished she could erase some of the things that had happened on holiday, particularly that night in the hotel bar when she and Alan had the heart to heart and he took hold of her hand. What man does that to another man’s wife? It could be excused because he was emotional, talking about his dead daughter, but nonetheless she felt uncomfortable still at the memory. But they were bound together for the long haul,
the four of them, in-laws, and there was no option but to put it behind her and make sure that in future she avoided a one-to-one situation with him.

Nicola was right. There was no need for them to be in each other’s pockets.

Or in each other’s hearts.

 

Sitting waiting for Nicola, Eleanor looked happily round the room, her favourite room in the whole house. She had help with the original design but over the years, she had added her own touches and having recently redecorated, she thought the present scheme was the best ever. They had used some of their collection of special pieces brought from France but they were flexible and Eleanor was not overly precious about any of them. She would happily hand any of them over if a client particularly wanted something on those lines and they had nothing in the shop stock.

There was Nicola at last. Eleanor did not rush to get up, watching as her daughter parked the car and climbed out carrying that over-large handbag of hers, casual in jeans and short padded jacket. Her hair was just scrunched back in a ponytail and even from a distance she looked tired.

Was she pregnant? Maybe she was waiting for confirmation before she told her, although Eleanor thought it unlikely as Nicola had never been one for holding onto a secret. The cottage had been up for sale for a while but they had withdrawn it when there was no interest, and the last time Eleanor had visited she was just a little concerned at the state of it. Matthew was no do-it-yourself man, but surely they could get somebody in to attend to the myriad of jobs that needed attention. It was the details that mattered and she thought she had drummed that into her daughter. She had always been a touch slovenly and without Eleanor on hand to pick things up, without cleaning help, her daughter’s home was starting to look like a tip.

With a sigh, for how on earth could she say anything without getting her back up, she got up, adding another tweak to the flowers in the hall before opening the door just as Nicola arrived in the porch.

They hugged each other and Nicola took off her jacket, discarding it casually on a chair beside the hall table. Pointedly, Eleanor retrieved it and hung it up.

‘Do I need to take my boots off? They’re not muddy,’ Nicola said, indicating the knee-length boots into which her jeans were neatly tucked.

‘You’ll be more comfortable without them,’ Eleanor said with a smile. ‘They are very smart, I have to say. Where did you get them?’

‘That shop in Wadebridge.’

‘Do you want to borrow some slippers?’

‘No. I hate slippers.’

She unzipped and tugged off her boots anyway, leaving them parked in the hall, and followed her mother into the sitting room.

‘Do you want tea straightaway or shall we have a chat first?’ Eleanor asked, taking in her daughter’s pale face and tired eyes as she sank onto the enormous off-white sofa, tucking her legs up and yawning.

‘Chat about what?’ Nicola asked warily. ‘You haven’t got me here to give me the third degree, have you?’

‘Of course not. What an idea!’ Eleanor laughed although it had crossed her mind that before this afternoon was out she would get to the bottom of whatever it was that was bothering her. ‘We don’t get the chance very often to get together so we should do it when we can.’

‘How did your trip to France go?’

‘Very well. We got some super stuff.’ She was not going to admit that the trip had been fraught, that Henry had been in a foul mood throughout and that he had been insufferably mean
when it came to spending money. He said their normal hotel, the one they usually stayed at, was fully booked and they stayed instead for the two nights at a substandard one. ‘How’s Matthew?’

‘Fine. I think …’ she added, lips pursing so that Eleanor had the confirmation – if she needed it – that something was wrong.

‘Don’t you know?’ The question was sharp and she saw Nicola jerk her head and chew on her lip, a sure sign, a childhood sign, that she was fighting hard to keep her composure. She could not remember the last time she had seen her daughter in tears, other than a few joyful ones at her wedding – which frankly she had her doubts about. ‘Have you two had a tiff?’

‘Not exactly, but it’s all a bit flat at the moment. It’s the house thing, Mum. I want to move and I just can’t get him to do it. That one we viewed a few months ago is still on the market so we could get it for a song if only I could get him to see sense. I can’t stand that place a minute longer. I hate it. It’s getting me down. It’s freezing now, like living in an igloo, so what the hell will it be like in winter?’

Eleanor smiled. ‘Igloos are very warm, I understand.’

Nicola frowned. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘Don’t I remember you saying how romantic a coal fire would be? You’ve got a beautiful inglenook fireplace. Use it. You’ll be wonderfully warm.’

‘I’ve tried it and I can’t be arsed with it.’

‘Nicola, please, I do wish you would watch your language.’

Her daughter gave her a look. ‘It takes forever to light it and then it’s smoky. It stinks the place out and it burns logs like nobody’s business. And you are only warm if you stand right beside it. Give me a gas fire any day or best of all underfloor heating.’

‘Do stop complaining. If you are like this at home it’s no
surprise that Matthew is fed up. Being petulant will get you nowhere. You have to learn how to handle the men, darling. Look at me and your father.’

Nicola gave a little snort. ‘You two are a fine example.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Oh, come on, Mother, surely you can’t imagine that I was oblivious to what was going on between you two when I was growing up? Please don’t insult me by pretending that you have the happiest marriage ever. Perhaps Alan and Paula can lay claim to that, but not you.’

‘We have been very happily married,’ Eleanor said stiffly, then seeing her daughter’s face she relented. ‘All right, it’s not been all roses and romance but I learned how to deal with it. With his little … dalliances.’

‘Dalliances?’ Nicola laughed. ‘Daddy and his dalliances. Did you always know?’

‘I …’ Eleanor was lost momentarily for words. It had never been spoken about but she guessed that, as Nicola grew older, it was pretty obvious what was going on under their very noses. So there was no point in denying it, not now. ‘It took a long time the first time to acknowledge it, but after that I always knew the signs to look for. But that’s something you have no reason to worry about. Matthew is not your father.’

‘No, he’s not and I love him and I can’t imagine life without him but it’s all gone a bit pear-shaped.’ Impatiently, she wiped her eyes where a few tears were now lodged. ‘Not getting the promotion was a big blow, Mum. I should have got it. The woman they’ve brought in is absolutely useless. I feel really let down. I think Gerry Gilbert only gave her the job because she’s had an hysterectomy so she’s not going to be going on maternity leave any time soon. I think I could sue him for discrimination because he has this extraordinary attitude to women of childbearing age. He thinks we’re all on the verge of having a baby and that’s why I didn’t get the job.’

‘Oh dear. I’m sure that’s not the reason. You are very young still and perhaps you need a little more experience. I remember when I was in line for head of department at school and I didn’t get it. It is very disappointing but it happens and it usually happens for a reason. Matthew was very sympathetic, wasn’t he?’

‘Yes, but he wasn’t that concerned. He would be delighted if I took maternity leave.’

‘Then why don’t you?’ she asked gently. ‘Take a break. It’s time, surely.’

‘I can’t get pregnant. I haven’t said anything to him because I don’t want to worry him but I’m off the pill and I’m still not pregnant. What if I can’t have a baby? What then?’

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Eleanor said. ‘The last time we spoke you told me that I had better not hold my breath about grandchildren. You more or less said you weren’t going to bother so what’s changed your mind?’

‘I don’t know.’ She bit her lip and looked like a child again. ‘I’m not going to have a baby just to please you and Matthew. I want one too and when Simone asked me to be godmother, I was really pleased, and baby Eli was a little dream at the christening. I held him and he took hold of my finger and …’ she shrugged, looking shamefaced. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’

Eleanor nodded, not surprised. ‘I’m afraid it does rather creep up on you.’

‘In the house that I want …’

‘You’re not still on about Tall Trees, are you? You have to accept that you are not going to get that property, darling.’

‘It’s still on the market. Anyway, there is a room overlooking the garden which would make a wonderful nursery. It also has a dining room and a lovely conservatory, a proper old-fashioned one, not one of those tacky things. And it’s got this big terrace and a lawn and a separate little herb garden. If
I’m pregnant then we will have to move. There’s no room for a cat, let alone a baby in the cottage.’

‘Oh, Nicola, when will you learn?’ Eleanor flinched. ‘I want a grandchild more than anything but I do not want you having a baby for the wrong reasons. You have to want one, darling, really want one. If not, then don’t bother. The problem with you …’ She hesitated because she was about to admit that her parenting skills had not been the best. ‘We’ve spoilt you. You are too used to getting what you want and I think Matthew is quite right. You must be patient about the house. And if that’s what all this is about, getting a bigger house, then it’s nothing to worry about at all. You will sort that out.’

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