Full Circle (19 page)

‘'We can't allow that.' Back in step again, as they'd talked they had walked briskly back down the hill to the High Street and the car. She got into the driver's seat and before he closed the door he bent and kissed her forehead. ‘We're at the beginning of a long road. It won't always be easy, but one thing I know for certain and that's that in or out of wedlock, even with no more than stolen days and nights, a life can be truly fulfilled. I saw it with Dad and Violet.' His sudden smile was full of confidence. ‘And anything they can do, we can do better. Now, let's get on the road.'

The meal at the old coaching inn was as good as the appearance of the dining room had promised; the bedroom even sported a four-poster bed, and the furniture was antique and in keeping. But there all comfort came to a halt. The wardrobe door squeaked, the bulb in the bedside light didn't work, and when Leo went to turn off the switch on the wall by the door each step he took on the creaking floorboards must have been audible in the room below. The springs in the mattress were evidence of its age and twanged with the slightest movement. Even if they kept still there were unrelenting lumps.

In such a situation the previous night together, laughter would have been impossible. But on their first stolen night far from the prying eyes of Lexleigh, they lay side by side, holding hands and relieving their frustrated disappointment with laughter.

‘We'll be all right, you and me, won't we?' she said, surprisingly contented despite everything.

‘I'm sure of it. Dad knows, you know. Forgets the day of the week and yet he sensed what had happened between you and me.'

She thought about it, remembering Harold on the first night she had come to the house, how he had talked to her about Violet and his fear of a future without her. She was quiet for so long that Leo began to think she must have gone to sleep, but then she said, ‘I'm glad he knows. I wonder if Aunt Violet knows too.' But for Leo, the thought was a step too far.

Next morning, half an hour before the time for the train he had told Carters' perspective client he would be arriving on, Louisa dropped him off before turning on to the road to Reading. It was as if the ghost of the woman she used to be travelled with her, perhaps exaggerating how changed she had become since moving away. Glancing in the driving mirror she reassured herself that her appearance hadn't altered, but what about her outlook on life? Reared in a home of strict morality, how could she be the same as she had been before the advent of Leo? Just Leo? Surely Bella had made some sort of impression too – one that probed her conscience. Suppose Leo had been married to someone else, someone she had never met – would she have the same feeling of shame casting a shadow on the joy it struggled to suppress? She thought of how Bella's constant reference to Leo, her seeming inability to see anything but the best in everyone and everything and her constant chatter about her wonderful marriage had irritated her in the early days. Now she felt real affection for the girl, and respect, too. And how could she not feel shame? Watching the tactful way Bella handled Harold, never robbing him of his self-respect as his behaviour become ever more erratic, made Louisa aware of how far short her own behaviour would fall if their positions were reversed. Imagine if their positions were reversed … it would be
she
who was married to Leo, she who was the mother of the little girl he idolized, and she who would have to spend her days caring for an ageing man whose mind was forever on the love he had shared with Violet. It must have been his understanding of that relationship that had opened his eyes to what had happened to Leo and her – or was it obvious to anyone who knew them, even to trusting and innocent Bella? She quickly pushed the thought from her mind.

By the time Louisa parked the car in Reading's Market Place and walked the short distance to where she had her appointment, it took all her concentration and willpower to muster up the expected image of Miss Louisa Harding, precise in thought, deed and personal appearance. At the back of her mind, ready for the first opportunity to push to the fore, were images of Leo and of the journey of discovery they had travelled together. All of it new to her, but how familiar was it to him, and who had he travelled it with? There was no doubt there had been many women in his life before Bella. Perhaps with the same instinct that had told Harold what was between Leo and her, Louisa knew without a doubt that Bella wouldn't have understood the wild joy she had felt in giving all that she was, holding nothing back and begging for more. She forced her mind back into line and glanced at her wristwatch, satisfied that she was exactly on time for her appointment. Her working life took over; only later would she allow memories of the past two days to intrude.

The rough area around The Retreat soon began to resemble a garden. The turf was well laid, the fruit trees giving shape to the ribbon of land to one side of the house. Right from first moving into the house Louisa had surprised herself with how enthusiastic she had felt about bringing life and colour to it, but with the lawn as a backdrop there was no stopping her.

‘Here's our best customer,' Margaret called to Hamish. ‘I wonder she has a patch of earth with nothing growing in it, the boxes of plants she collects.'

‘Och, but there's space and to spare there. It's taking shape though, Mags, and she works like a Trojan.'

‘Well, she's just parking. Best you come and serve her.' Then, with a saucy wink, ‘Reckon it's you she's after more than the plants. Come on, she'll be in in a minute.'

‘Chump! Tell her I'm out in the potting shed. If she needs a bit of advice with her choice she'll know where to find me.'

Margaret was disappointed. She and her twin could almost read each other's thoughts and she was sure he was sweet on Louisa Harding. And what could be better? It was time he was thinking of something outside the nursery. By this time next year she and Dennis would have enough saved to put down a deposit on their first home, and once they were married she wouldn't find it so easy to spend all her days working. But, of course, Louisa was a professional woman – she might not want to be tied to serving in a shop or helping outside.

‘The sunshine's brought you out early, Louisa. I've only just got the place set up. Did you want plants or have you come to see Hamish?'

‘Both. Or maybe hanging baskets are more in your line than his?'

‘Sometimes I make them up for folk, but it's best if you have a word with Hamish if you're choosing what to put in them. You don't want to mix things that like a lot of water with others that are averse to it.'

‘I don't know about that sort of thing. I just go for colour,' Louisa answered. ‘Petunias are always a bright splash, don't you think?'

‘They last well, too, as long as you dead head them every day. But they do tend to get a bit leggy and can make the basket look untidy as the season goes on. Have a word with Hamish – he's out in the potting shed.'

As Louisa made her way between the tables of plants, Margaret stood back from the open doorway but made sure she still had a view of the potting shed. Come on now, brother Hamish, she's a strong-minded woman if ever I saw one, and if you want to make an impression don't pussyfoot about.

Maybe he pussyfooted and maybe he didn't, she had no way of knowing, but they were a long time in the shed and then both came out to make the choice. By the time they came back into the shop, each pushing a barrow filled with colourful plants, nearly half an hour had gone by.

‘How soon can you get them ready, Mags? By this evening?'

‘If I don't get too many interruptions, but on a day like this we may be busy.'

‘Don't rush for this evening. Suppose I come and get them tomorrow afternoon? I have to go to the ironmonger in town to buy brackets to put on the walls. I may not have them up as soon as this evening.' Louisa meant to keep the evening free. Sometimes she was disappointed but often Leo came out on the pretext of having a drink at the Pig and Whistle. Occasionally that's what he did too, taking Louisa with him and enjoying the passing glances and raised eyebrows. Those were the times when, back at the farm, he would casually say he had ‘dug Louisa out' to come with him to the pub. Her favourite evenings were those when he made no mention of her at home, and neither did he go to the Pig and Whistle.

On that particular evening Louisa had given up hope of his coming and was in her workroom when he arrived.

‘I'd just decided you'd stood me up this evening.'

‘Um? Stood you up? No, nothing of the sort.' Clearly his mind was somewhere else.

‘What's the matter? Trouble?' In her mind trouble meant had Bella realized how they spent their time.

‘It's Dad. Something is different about him. I know his memory lets him down, but it's more than that. It sounds uncaring to say he looks cunning – anyway, of course he isn't cunning. He's lost and frightened, poor old boy.' For a moment he seemed deep in his worried thoughts before he visibly brightened. Even his voice sounded normal again. ‘One thing is certain: he absolutely dotes on Ali. Well, of course he does; as soon as he comes near her she beams at him and holds up her arms.'

‘I know. Bella told me.' She hoped he wasn't going to spend the evening with his mind on what was going on at the farm. ‘Shall I get you a drink?'

‘No, thanks. I'm not staying this evening. Bella was putting Ali to bed and Dad was gazing at a very flickering picture on the television. I must get the chap from Sewards to come and look at it. That set has been nothing but trouble. Is yours all right? Can it be the weather? I know nothing at all about the wretched things and neither do I want to.'

‘I watched the news and that was OK. Anyway, I mustn't keep you; I can see you're anxious to get home.'

He looked surprised by her tone, and then his expression changed as he held his hand out to her. ‘Anxious, yes; but wanting to get home, no. I want to stay with you, that's all I want. But the old man worries me. Lou, I wish I could help him. I can feel his sadness, his fear at what's happening to him.'

‘Sorry, I sounded snappy. I hate the way we have to live – the pretence, the
cheating
.'

‘And you think I don't? Listen, I came so that I could tell you this – just between ourselves, mind. Not a word to the others. An old friend – we go back to school and then college together – lives in London and writes for an engineering monthly magazine, but he has a cottage near Leominster where he often spends his weekends. He says we can use it any time we like except weekends. See, I have the key here,' he added with the smile of a triumphant schoolboy.

She knew she should resist him but was powerless, and found herself moving to perch on the arm of his chair, bending to kiss his brow.

‘A very useful friend to have.' She said it to please him, as what he said had only added to her sense of shame. Shame that she wanted to be at the cottage, somewhere cut off from everyone who knew them, shame that she was stealing temporary happiness to which she had no right, and shame that of the two sentiments it was the first, the eagerness to cut themselves off from everything but each other that was predominant.

‘I told them at home that I'd had a long talk on the phone to Gerald Sinclair – that's his name – and he'd invited me over to see the place. I said I'm going tomorrow and shall stay the night. They accepted it without question. It'll mean driving separately, of course, but we can meet up for lunch. There's a really good café I know called The Copper Kettle – their steak and kidney pie is out of this world and always on the menu. I'll draw you a map of how to get to an arranged spot and from there you can follow me in.'

‘Not tomorrow, Leo. I've arranged with Hamish McLaren that he's going to town to get the brackets on his way here and then he's hanging three baskets of flowers his sister has promised to get done. I thought one near the front door and one either side of the front window. What do you think?'

‘I think you'll just have to phone this gardener chap and tell him something has cropped up. Tell him where you want him to hang them and when you get home you'll find them waiting. Agree?'

‘Most certainly not. They are putting a lot of work into these hanging baskets and I'm not clearing off without even seeing them put in place. You can use the cottage any weekday, so let's go the next one.'

‘If that's your answer I shall have to go without you. I've already told Gerald we shall be there tomorrow. I'm sorry you think it more important not to hurt this gardener fellow's feelings than mine.' With that he stood up, ready to leave. Her immediate reaction was panic but it didn't last. One look at the sulky expression on his face and she started to laugh.

‘Oh, Leo, darling Leo, you're being a prima donna. Hamish won't be here above an hour, I shouldn't think. Have your steak and kidney pie and I'll meet you later.'

Just for a couple of seconds the expression hung on, then it was gone and she found herself pulled into his arms. Shame had no place in her mind, nor did hanging baskets; she wanted just to be with him, whether it was right or wrong mattered not at all.

Five minutes later she was alone, a piece of paper in her hand telling her where to find The Copper Kettle, which was the rendezvous where he would wait for her.

A few days later it was Bella who told her that Leo had given up the flat where they'd lived before Ali was born.

‘I persuaded him it was greedy to keep it. I heard the other day that the council has a list a mile long of people waiting to be housed, so to hang on to a place he only used if he didn't want to drive home seemed immoral. That's what I told him, expecting him to argue that the flat we'd rented wouldn't help anyone on the council list. But he took it like a lamb and even agreed.'