Echoes of the Dance (34 page)

It was stupid, Kate told herself as she parked in the driveway, to feel so nervous: it was as if the cottage were a beloved child being shown off before a critical audience. Beside her, sitting in the passenger seat, Daisy was already making encouraging noises, but it was clear to Kate that Daisy was in such a euphoric state that she would have found it difficult to be negative about anything, let alone such a charming scene. The cottage drowsed peacefully in the afternoon sunshine, the hawthorn blossom was beginning to rust along the hedge and the scent of the philadelphus was heavy in the air.

As she switched off the engine Roly leaned forward and touched her on the shoulder.

‘
Courage, ma brave
,' he murmured in her ear – and she felt a rush of affection for him. It was such a relief that he wasn't in love with her any more: no more of the ‘pleasing plague' to muddle the issue and complicate their relationship. She guessed that he knew exactly what she was feeling and, as she went to unlock the door, she felt comforted. Daisy bounded inside at once and stopped short at the sitting-room door. Kate watched her anxiously: despite Daisy's sense of personal wellbeing Kate knew that she would speak out honestly.

‘What's wrong?' she asked, standing at her shoulder.

‘Nothing's wrong.' Daisy hastened to reassure her. ‘It's sweet. I was just surprised that it's so small. Coming from your big house, and the barn being open plan, it's just such a difference. I love the inglenook and the stove.'

‘It's easy to heat,' said Kate lamely.

She stared round the room as if she hadn't seen it before, trying to conjure up her own first excited reactions, whilst Daisy disappeared into the kitchen. Roly went right into the sitting-room, ducking his head to avoid the low beams. He looked about him, thinking of the young Kate and how it must have seemed to her.

‘I can see why you fell in love with it,' he said. ‘It's absolutely delightful.'

‘It was different,' she murmured. ‘I had no furniture, only books and a few pictures, and I chose everything to fit it. It was such fun.'

‘Yes,' he said, after a moment. ‘I can well imagine it would have been. It's like one's first car, isn't it? Nothing ever quite beats that first exciting moment of ownership.'

She glanced at him quickly. ‘Do you mean that it wouldn't be the same again?'

‘It can't be the same again. But that doesn't mean that it's wrong to buy it.'

‘No, no, of course not.' She turned away, following Daisy into the kitchen. ‘You can't imagine how this looked back then. There was an old solid-fuel Rayburn and I had a dresser against this wall.'

Daisy appeared from the small room beyond the kitchen.

‘They haven't cared about it, have they?' she asked, distressed. ‘They've just put in any old bits and pieces.'

‘Perhaps they couldn't afford anything else,' suggested Kate. ‘It's a second home so it probably took everything they had just to buy it.'

‘I suppose so.' Daisy didn't sound convinced. ‘It must have been so different when you had it, Kate.'

‘Well, it was. You like it, then?'

‘Oh, yes. It's sweet. And there's plenty of room for Floss.' She hurried past them and up the stairs.

Roly grimaced almost apologetically. ‘Very single-minded girl, our Daisy.'

Kate laughed. ‘Ever since we first met she's been determined that Floss and I were made for each other. And so have you. Well,' she looked about her, ‘there's plenty of room for Floss here.'

Roly looked at her curiously. ‘You sound a bit flat about it. Not about Floss but about the cottage. Disappointed or frustrated in some way.'

‘That's rather clever of you, Roly. Frustrated describes it rather well. When I saw the cottage again, once Michael had left me on my own here, it all came back to me. I relived it all again. You know? Seeing it for the first time and buying bits and pieces for it, and how the twins loved it, and other things too: the awful early years with Mark and then my mother dying. It was odd that I'd always remembered it as a place where I was very happy but I realized that it hadn't been quite like that. And then there was Alex. I relived it all then, as I walked about and sat in the sun in the garden. But when I brought Gemma's twins to see it and now, today, with you and Daisy it's as if the cottage is closed against me. It has nothing to say to me. The magic has gone.'

Daisy was calling from the top of the stairs and Kate went out into the little hall and looked up at her.

‘At least the bunk beds are here,' she said. ‘I remember you saying that you had them for Giles and Guy. The main bedroom isn't too bad at all, either.'

Roly waited downstairs, hearing their footsteps passing overhead and their voices in a kind of question and answer duet: Daisy's raised enquiringly, Kate's lower, slower. They came down again and Daisy went outside, still eager and interested in it all.

‘Perhaps,' Roly said quietly, ‘you need to see the cottage as a place where you were happy once so that you can believe that you could be happy here again. I think it's a positive thing to remember happy times. Human nature has a way of blotting out the things we find painful – how else could we go forward? – but I don't believe that you should put all your hopes for future happiness in a cottage. It isn't shutting you out, Kate, there's nothing mysterious here. It's just being what it is: a building, and a very nice one, of stone and slate. If you buy it you'll find your life will continue much as it is now, or as it was then, with periods of joy and sadness. Stop seeing it as a solution: there are no guarantees against pain.'

She stared at him almost fearfully. ‘What shall I do, then?'

‘If you love this cottage and it fits in with all your present requirements and solves your financial difficulties, then buy it. But don't see it through rose-coloured spectacles, Kate. Don't envisage yourself sitting here dreaming about a time when your life was perfect or you'll be brutally disillusioned. You've talked about Mark, and the twins when they were small, and your mother and even Alex, but you don't talk about David. Why is that? What would David be saying to you now?'

‘Giles asked that question.'

‘And what did you tell him?'

‘I told him that I can't think about David. It's too . . . painful. Too lonely.'

Daisy appeared suddenly in the doorway.

‘What a heavenly little garden. The apple trees are so old.' She stared at them. ‘You both look very serious. Is something wrong?'

‘Of course not.' Kate went out into the sunshine. ‘Just the eternal question: shall I buy it or not? Is the fruit beginning to set?'

Roly followed them more slowly, cursing himself for being unnecessarily brutal. Daisy was telling Kate something, gesticulating wildly, and quite suddenly they both began to laugh. As they came back towards him he felt an inexplicable lightening of his own spirits, as if something had been resolved, some prayer answered.

Kate smiled at him. ‘We must go home,' she said, ‘or Nat will wonder where we are. He's coming to tea, remember. Let me just lock the door and we'll be on our way.'

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Nat picked up his jacket and his keys and had got as far as the door when the telephone rang. He hesitated, glancing at his watch, but went back to answer it: it might be the client he was going on to after tea with Kate. It would be damned annoying if he went all that way and they weren't in.

It was Monica.

‘What a miracle to catch you,' she said brightly, immediately making him feel guilty, as if he'd been avoiding her. ‘How are you?'

‘To be honest I'm just going out.' Tactless to tell her where. ‘I only dashed in to grab something and then I'm going over towards Callington way. Everything OK?'

‘Oh well, the usual.' Her voice held that familiar, faintly martyred tone, and he tensed, shivered through with irritation and wariness. ‘I'm thinking of coming down to see you.'

‘Oh.' He tried to make it sound a welcoming response; pleasantly surprised. ‘That's nice. When?'

‘Next week. Friday? Just for a few nights. I can't get hold of Roly but I might spend a night or two down with him.'

‘He's got someone staying at the moment.'

‘Oh?' Her voice was sharp at once. ‘Who?'

‘Girl called Daisy. One of Mim's protégées. She's beginning work at the school with her next term and meanwhile she's working on something down in Cornwall.'

‘But why? Why does she have to be with Roly? Honestly, Mim is the last straw.'

‘I've no idea.' He bristled with impatience – why shouldn't the girl stay with Roly? – but he managed to keep his voice calm. ‘Perhaps she hasn't anywhere else to go. Look, Mum, I've got a client waiting. Shall we fix this up now? Friday, did you say?'

‘Is Janna with you?'

‘Yes. Yes, she is. Well, not today. She's helping Teresa with a stall in Totnes.'

‘Oh, she's with
Treesa
, is she?'

As usual she invited him to mock Janna with her and, as usual, he felt dislike and condemnation at her tactics.

‘Yes, with Teresa.' His voice was cool. ‘Is that a problem for you?'

‘What? What do you mean?'

‘That Janna will be here next week. Does that make a difference to you wanting to come down?'

‘No, I suppose not.' There was a weight of hurt disappointment in her sighed response. ‘It's nice to see you by yourself sometimes, that's all.'

He refused to allow his ingrained guilt to trap him into any kind of apology.

‘I expect we'll manage a moment here and there. Friday, then. I'll be home about the usual time but you know where the key is. Jonathan OK? . . . Great. See you on Friday.'

He switched off the phone and slammed it back on its stand. His fingers crisped into the palms of his hands, balling into fists. How would they manage, the three of them together? Janna was in such an odd mood just lately, so certain he and she could make some kind of closer relationship work, and he could envisage his mother's glance probing into the delicate structure of their friendship, summing it all up, weighing the pros and cons, throwing in a damaging remark. Dammit, why hadn't he just said at once that it wasn't possible, that he had friends staying? It wasn't necessary to feel responsible for her; that it was up to him to make her happy. That was Jonathan's job.

Nat snatched up his keys and his jacket and went out, locking up behind him, checking that the spare key was under the flowerpot for Janna – she hated carrying keys, always losing them. He drove the road to Whitchurch as slowly as he dared, determined to keep this tea-party as short as possible. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Kate or Roly; it was just this girl, Daisy, who was the unknown quantity. He was tired of friends setting up girls for him, trying to detach him from Janna. Why couldn't they just accept that Janna was the only woman he could possibly live with: someone who had as many hang-ups as he did? Perhaps it was his mother's legacy, those teenage years of trying to placate and support her and, later on, the ghastly scenes when he decided to leave the business and live his own life, that made him so wary and defensive of forming any close relationships.

Kate's garden gate was shut. Roly had brought the dogs: that would be the reason for it. He was glad about the dogs. They gave one a bit of protective camouflage. He left the pick-up outside and walked up the drive. They were grouped round the big wooden table in the garden, putting out plates and mugs, whilst the dogs danced around. Kate saw him first and waved to him. Roly and the girl turned, and Roly came towards him, calling a greeting, drawing the girl along with him. She looked nice: very graceful and open-faced. He instinctively toughened himself against that eager, interested, lancing stare, smiling back and holding out his hand as Roly introduced them. And then he saw her gaze widen, change, and she took his hand with a strong, friendly grip, and he knew quite certainly that it would be OK and was foolishly overwhelmed with relief.

Nat and Daisy carried the afternoon: jokes and conversation rolling like a ball between them to be scooped up and passed back before bouncing off on another topic. Watching his son, Roly felt the kind of happiness that comes when it is clear that a beloved child is peacefully having fun. He laughed as he listened and watched, remembering other happy times when Nat was much younger: a cheerful, careless undergraduate who dropped in for an impromptu chat or a drink, and who was enjoying the first tastes of freedom.

Every now and again Roly glanced at Kate as if to invite her to share in his pleasure; but Kate, though ready to join in the conversation, was so preoccupied with her own thoughts that he began to believe that his earlier sense of relief, that certainty that she'd finally made the decision about the cottage, had been premature. He could see that something was bothering her. It was she who suggested that the dogs should have a run in the paddock before the trip back to Cornwall and it was Daisy and Nat who volunteered to take them.