A Perfect Home (27 page)

He held out his hand to Claire.

‘It's lovely to meet you,' he said, smiling warmly. His hand felt smooth, his handshake firm.

‘Mum has been telling me all about you,' said Claire.

‘Good things, I hope.'

‘Oh, yes.'

‘She has certainly made me a very happy man.' Brian took her mother's hand in his.

‘I think it's time for a celebratory drink,' said Elizabeth. ‘It's well past five o'clock. Gin and tonics all round.'

‘Yes please,' Claire and Brian chorused together and they all laughed.

‘That's a shock too, Mum,' said Claire. ‘You never drink.'

‘Well, you only live once, as you said yourself, dear.'

Claire called to Ben, scooped him up, and walked with Brian up to the cottage garden as her mother went inside to fetch the drinks. From a wooden table they could still watch Oliver and Emily running in and out of the waves with a very excited Buster bounding beside them.

Brian carefully stretched out his leg in front of him. He winced with pain.

‘How is your ankle?' asked Claire, cuddling Ben close to her to keep him warm.

‘Getting better, but I think getting back on the old bike and driving a hundred and fifty miles wasn't that great for it. It certainly feels stiffer today.'

‘It was an awful thing to happen,' said Claire. ‘To get knocked down like that.'

‘No, not awful at all.' Brian smiled. ‘Actually it was one of the best things that's ever happened to me.'

‘I'm sure there are easier ways to meet someone.'

‘Well, your mother certainly has an unusual way of getting a man's attention.'

‘She seems so happy,' said Claire. ‘Quite changed. Would I be right to think you are responsible for dragging Mum into the twenty-first century?'

‘If you mean introducing her to the wonders of the internet, then yes, that was me. She's a fast learner. She's never off her laptop now.'

Elizabeth returned with a tray of glasses, a bowl of cashew nuts, and a towel to wrap around Ben.

‘Cheers,' said Brian raising his glass. ‘To a very happy future.'

‘To a happy future,' mother and daughter echoed.

‘So, you used to live in France?' Claire asked Brian. He was throwing nuts into the air to catch them with his mouth. Ben squealed with laughter at his display.

‘I still live in France,' he replied, handing Ben a square of chocolate that he had produced from the pocket of his denim shirt. ‘I have an old farmhouse that I renovated years ago. It's in the Dordogne. I had only come over here for a day or two to meet my son's new baby. My first grandchild. She's called Alice, she's gorgeous. I was painting them a picture of the church where Alice will be christened when I met your mother.' He squeezed Elizabeth's hand across the table. ‘Now I've got my ankle out of plaster and I'm back on my wheels again I need to get back home. The animals are being looked after by my neighbour but they'll be missing me. I also want to get the painting classes back up and running and,' he hesitated and exchanged a glance with Elizabeth, ‘I want to take your mother with me.'

‘For a holiday?' asked Claire.

‘No,' Elizabeth replied. ‘I'm going to move to France to be with Brian. To live there. My flat is on the market already.'

‘Wow!' said Claire. ‘That's a big life change.'

Her mother looked at her, and smiled nervously. ‘Do you think it's too big?'

‘No, it's not too big. Do it if you want to, Mum,' said Claire. ‘You were a French teacher for thirty-five years – you speak fluent French. I remember how much you wanted to live in France when I was little, but Dad wouldn't even go there on holiday. It could be fantastic. Why not grab all the opportunities you can?'

‘That's what I say,' said Brian. ‘At our age you never know how long you've got left. You could get ill or have a heart attack or some mad woman in a brown Mini could run you over.' Claire's mother swiped at him crossly. He caught her hand in his and kissed it. They both laughed and Claire couldn't help smiling.

‘I thought you might not approve.' Elizabeth's face was serious again. ‘It's not as if we've known each other very long.'

‘Two months is a long time if you love someone,' Claire said.

‘I thought you'd be upset about my leaving you and the children.'

‘We'll be over all the time,' said Claire. ‘It will be a great excuse to have French holidays. The children will love it.'

‘What do you think William will think?' asked her mother.

Who cares?
thought Claire. ‘Well, I expect he'll foresee all sorts of potential problems and pitfalls – you know how he worries. But I hope he'll be very pleased for you.' She touched her mother's hand across the table. ‘I'm really happy for you anyway.' She looked at Brian. ‘For both of you.'

‘Can we put our swimsuits on now?' Emily shouted as she ran towards them, shorts and T-shirt dripping. Oliver followed, equally soaked.

‘I think it's a bit late for that!' Brian laughed. ‘You're already drenched.'

‘Who are you?' asked Emily, looking at the stranger suspiciously.

‘I'm Brian,' he said. ‘Your grandmother is a very special friend of mine.'

Just then Buster ran up to the table and shook himself violently. Sea water sprayed out all over everyone.

‘And this is my other special friend,' said Brian, patting Buster's soggy coat. ‘Now, I should go in and make a start on supper. Any volunteers for giving a hungry dog his dinner?'

They ate looking over the little cove and beyond to a faroff headland. The setting sun was still warm and Claire began to feel herself relaxing for the first time in weeks. Brian made them large crepes which he served with melted cheese, ham, and fried eggs. He told Claire and the children that it was a traditional Dordogne speciality. Claire was suddenly ravenous in the fresh sea air; it had been a long time since she had enjoyed a meal so much.

Brian told the children about all the mischief Buster got into on their walks and let them feed the dog small treats from their plates. They laughed, delighted, at the big yellow dog pushing his nose around their toes looking for dropped food, his shaggy tail slapping against their bare thighs.

After the meal, Brian suggested he take the children back to the beach where he directed them in a scramble over the rocks and pebbles to search for driftwood for the cottage fire. He stood on the highest rock holding Ben's hand and pointing out with his stick branches for Oliver and Emily to collect.

‘He's lovely, Mum,' said Claire, watching them as she collected up their plates from the table.

‘I think so.'

‘He's a big hit with the children,' Claire added. ‘I think they're going to have a lot of fun with Buster too.'

She could see Oliver and Emily climbing over the large flat rocks, Buster close beside them, sniffing in between the crevices. Ben was picking up pebbles from the foot of the rock he shared with Brian. He handed them with great importance one by one to Brian and watched in wonder as Brian skimmed each pebble across the incoming water, making them hop across the waves.

‘Are you all right?' Elizabeth asked her. ‘I'm worried about you. You've lost so much weight.' She came and put her arm around her daughter's shoulder. ‘You seem sad.'

‘I think I just need a bit of a rest,' said Claire. ‘Don't worry about me. I'll be fine.'

After Claire had put the three exhausted children to bed, Brian and Elizabeth showed her pictures of the house in France on Brian's laptop. It was a beautiful rectangular farmhouse with shuttered windows, ochre-coloured walls, and an undulating terracotta roof. The garden was a wilderness of trees and flowers bordered by a wide, shallow river. A duck pond was fringed with irises and a painted wooden duck house sat on an island in the middle. They showed her pictures of the little medieval town nearby. Pretty golden buildings clustered on a steep hillside leading down to a medieval bridge.

‘Proper shops there,' Brian said. ‘Patisseries, boulangeries, hardware shops selling everything you'd ever need. The people are so friendly. I've know them all for years. They were all so good to me when my wife died.'

Brian made a fire as the late summer chill set in and they sat around it drinking wine, telling Claire more of their plans for the future. Buster gently snored at Brian's feet.

‘The children will love it over there,' he said. ‘We'll soon have them fishing in our river and there are loads of fossils in the rocks around the house, and a lake nearby to swim in.'

‘We'll come as often as we can,' said Claire, genuinely looking forward to it, though she couldn't help thinking how much Stefan would like it.

She found herself imagining being there with him: sitting drinking wine in the shady garden, watching the children playing in the river, walking down the narrow lanes of the town hand in hand, leaning over the bridge as the water flowed beneath it. She felt sure he'd get on well with Brian.

‘You look miles away,' her mother said, bringing her back to reality. ‘You must be tired after your long drive. Don't let us keep you up with all our talking'

‘It must all be a bit much to take in,' said Brian kindly. ‘You didn't even know I existed until today and now I'm whisking your mother away to foreign parts.'

‘I know I should have told you before but I haven't seen you for so long,' said her mother. ‘And I wanted to talk to you face to face, for you to meet Brian yourself.'

‘I wish you both lots of happiness.'

‘You're very generous,' said Brian.

‘No, not generous,' said Claire. ‘I just think if you can find someone you want to be with and you can be with them, then you're very lucky.' She got up. ‘I'd better go to bed; I suddenly feel exhausted. Must be the sea air.' She kissed her mother's cheek. ‘Night, Mum,' she said and kissed Brian too. ‘It's so lovely to meet you.' She smiled at them both and left the room.

In bed she could hear them quietly talking as they washed up, laughing together, whispering, so obviously happy in each other's company. She realised that there was only one other bedroom in the cottage. She remembered a patchwork-covered double bed she had glimpsed earlier and tried not to feel shocked.

Claire woke up early. Ben had got into her bed sometime in the night. She held his warm, soft body close to hers, feeling his gentle breathing on her cheek. After a little while she extricated herself from his embrace and got up and pulled on jeans and a jumper.

She left the children sleeping in their room and made herself a cup of tea in the silent kitchen. Taking it outside, she stood looking at the sea. The tide was high and the air crisp and cold. Gulls soared against another bright blue sky. The rhythmic sound of the waves rolling onto the shingle edge of the beach mixed with birds calls high above her.

She walked up the steep cliff steps until she reached the top, looking down on the clear green water glistening in the morning sun. Sitting down on the short grass beside the coastal path, she took a cigarette from a box of ten in her pocket. As she lit it and inhaled she thought of Stefan and wondered where he was. Waking up to the noise of London traffic, or somewhere hundreds of miles away in another country? Maybe he was on the other side of the large expanse of water in front of her. She gazed out across the sea and her heart ached with the longing that had become so familiar.

‘Those things will kill you,' said a voice. Brian and Buster appeared from the opposite direction. Claire jumped at being found out.

‘Don't tell my mum,' she said as he sat down beside her.

‘You're a grown woman,' he laughed. ‘Not a twelve-year-old behind a bike shed.'

‘I know,' she said. ‘But I still think she'd be cross with me.'

‘Only worried about your health.' Brian smiled at her. ‘But I'll keep your secret, don't worry. I'm sure you have your reasons. We all need the odd vice to make life worthwhile sometimes.'

‘Yes,' said Claire, looking down onto the rough grey rocks of the cliff.

‘I know I drank too much when my wife was ill,' Brian went on. ‘The odd nightcap gradually turned into half a bottle before bed and then a couple of glasses of whisky in the morning as soon as I'd made her breakfast. Whisky with lunch, whisky with tea and supper. I felt very guilty at the time but, looking back, I think it helped me through it. I needed something otherwise I'd have gone mad.'

‘That must have been a terrible time for you,' said Claire.

‘I thought my life was ending too,' he said. ‘Wished I could go with her when she died. Seriously thought about making that happen. It was a very bleak year, the year after her death.'

‘You must have loved her very much to feel so sad.' Claire thought of the agonising months after Jack had died. She wondered if her mother had told Brian about him.

‘I adored my wife,' Brian went on. ‘We'd been together since we were fifteen. I never imagined I could love another woman. But then I met your mother.' He looked at Claire and smiled. ‘She's a very special person. She's been like a gift for me, an unexpected gift. An explosion of light out of all the darkness of my grief. It just shows you – even if you think everything is lost and that only loneliness and despair remain, the most amazing things can happen. Never give up hope. If life has taught me anything it's that things always get better.'

‘I hope you're right,' she said, finishing her cigarette and stubbing it out in the short grass.

‘Did your mother tell you that I've asked her to marry me?'

‘No,' said Claire, looking up at him surprised. ‘What did she say?'

‘She refused,' said Brian. ‘She says she'll never get married again.'

‘Give her time. It was dreadful for her when my dad left. She was so upset, felt so betrayed and hurt. Does it matter to you if you're married or not?'