Second Chance (22 page)

‘It's not, it's not. It's here all around us. We're all bound together for ever. With Selena. Please don't say it's all in the past. Please don't leave us. I couldn't bear it.'

‘Annabel, you're so emotional at the moment that you're talking nonsense. I'm not a part of your life. Please don't get worked up about me. Look, we'll walk up the cliff path to the top and from there we'll see all the coastline of West Wales and the mountains of three counties and all the lovely sky.'

‘That's not going to do anything for me.'

‘It might.'

After about fifteen minutes, she looked at me pitifully. ‘How far do we have to walk? It's so cold up here.'

The weather was unusually mild, a Michaelmas summer, not a cloud in the sky.

‘We'll turn back.'

‘And now the wind is facing us.'

‘Have my jacket.'

She let me zip her into my shabby old anorak. Her face was white and clenched. Why hadn't I realised how unfit she was? We still had almost a mile to walk along the cliff path before getting back to the beach and the car.

I almost stumbled into the man sitting reading in a grassy hollow at the edge of the path. I'd started to apologise before realising that it was the minister, Lewis Owen, who was scrambling to his feet. ‘This is my stepdaughter, Mr Owen. She's not feeling too well so I'm rushing her back to the car.'

‘This is a lovely sheltered spot, Miss Rivers. I think you should both sit here for a moment or two.' He must have noticed how pale she was.

Annabel sank down onto the patch of flattened grass he was offering us, while he and I stood looking down at her. ‘Annabel, this is the minister of Horeb, the Reverend Lewis Owen.

‘Why don't I go and get you both some tea from the kiosk?'

‘The kiosk has been closed since the end of August,' I said. ‘But I've got some tea and sandwiches in the back of my car, if you'd be kind enough to fetch them.'

I handed him my keys and he went hurrying off, Annabel and I watching the flaming red hair until it disappeared from sight.

‘Do you feel any better?' I asked her.

‘He looks like a pre-Raphaelite angel, doesn't he,' was all she said. ‘Who did you say he was?'

‘Very good sandwiches, Miss Rivers. Won't you try one, Annabel?'

‘No thank you, Lewis.' They were already on Christian-name terms.

‘I'm so pleased I came here today. I haven't had a picnic for years.'

It wasn't much of a picnic. I'd only had time to pack a flask of tea and some raspberry jam sandwiches which had become rather limp.

‘We were going to call on you on our way back through the village, weren't we Kate?'

‘That's right,' I said, aware again of what we had to discuss.

But it was difficult to contemplate the funeral; Annabel and the minister were two youngsters, newly acquainted, and eyeing each other rather more than was strictly necessary. I wanted them to savour these few moments, which might, in the future, leave a little blurred stirring of pleasure in both their minds. Annabel had stopped shivering and seemed to be looking around her, for the first time taking in the sea, certainly not a Mediterranean aquamarine, but a creditable Cardigan Bay slate-blue for all that, with pure white frillings where it broke onto the pebbly beach with the splash and suck you hear in your dreams, the seagulls, of course, wheeling round with their desolate cries, the gorse fringing the cliff path, the flowers like bits of torn paper stuck on haphazardly, and the strong seashore smell which the first settlers must have inhaled when they decided to stay. ‘It's nice here,' she said. ‘Couldn't we buy a house down here?'

‘There's no houses till you get to the village, half a mile up the hill,' Lewis Owen said. ‘People weren't daft enough to build down here in the teeth of the wind. In the old days views weren't as important as shelter. In any case, the fishermen who lived in those houses saw more than enough of the sea. My father was a fisherman. Down the coast in New Quay. Ever been there?'

‘No, we always went to Crete. My grandfather had a house in Crete. My sister and I loved it there.'

‘I've only been abroad once and that was a school trip to Brittany. Quite pretty countryside. Big ugly churches, though, and the little towns not a patch on New Quay.'

I tried to join in the conversation, but could only think of the moment when I'd have to break in and mention the funeral. We couldn't delay it any longer. Paul would be phoning later in the evening wanting all the details; there were many arrangements to be made.

Annabel seemed to sense my unease. ‘Have you heard about my sister?' she asked Lewis Owen in a very gentle voice, leaning over towards him and putting her hand on his arm. I could hardly believe this was the girl who loved to shock and bewilder everyone.

‘Annabel's twin sister, Selena...' I said. And failed to go on.

Lewis stiffened, realising that the pleasure of the afternoon was over. ‘No,' he said, as though he, too, couldn't bear more.

‘She killed herself. And we... and I...'

‘Annabel and her parents would like her to be buried at Glanrhyd if you think that would be possible.'

‘I don't know,' he said. ‘I don't know.'

There was silence for a moment or two, then Annabel gave a little half-choked sob.

Lewis Owen got to his feet and looked out towards the sea. ‘I'm not sure I could do it. You see, I've only had to perform three burial services so far. And they've all been for old people. But I know the Reverend Henry Parry would take over for me. He's a retired minister who lives just outside the village, a thorn in my flesh, actually, with his kindly advice about this and that and everything else. But very experienced and highly respected.'

‘I want you to do it,' Annabel said. ‘There won't be anyone there except me and Kate and my parents. I don't want anyone experienced and respected. And I don't want anyone old. I hate old people. I just want you to say those words about ashes to ashes and be very sad.'

Lewis Owen turned to face her again. ‘I think it's only right to tell you that I'm not even convinced about “the certain resurrection”.'

‘Not Faith, but at least Hope,' I said, quoting Betjeman.

‘That's all a lot of balls,' Annabel said. ‘Just say she was lovely and that we'll never forget her and that we'll love her for ever. And I want you and no one else. Certainly not that horrid old man with his advice.'

Another long silence. ‘All right,' Lewis said at last. ‘Anytime this next week except Tuesday. Give me a bell when you decide and I'll see to everything. I have to go now. A hospital visit this evening.'

‘Can we give you a lift?' I asked him.

‘No thanks, I've got my bike.' He had become extremely downcast as though he was personally implicated in our tragedy.

‘I love this place,' Annabel said after we'd watched him walking down the path and across the beach.

‘You mentioned your parents and you and me, but you didn't say a word about Laurie.'

‘Oh, Selena never cared for Laurie. Anyway, he'll be far too busy to come. He's got such a lot of such very important work. No, I shan't be seeing Laurie any more.'

‘Annabel, try to remember that you're a pregnant lady and that you're not to go lusting after respectable ministers of religion.'

‘Can we go back now? Can we have sausage and chips later on?'

Poor Lewis Owen, I said to myself as we walked back to the car. He doesn't stand a chance against this one.

When we arrived home, we found Rhydian leaning against the wall waiting for us. For a moment before he turned, I saw his profile; high forehead and thin, fine nose, and it was like seeing someone who was a stranger and yet very close and familiar – a new lover whom I'd known for ever. I'm sure he felt the same; his smile was both very shy and very intimate.

I introduced him to Annabel and he squeezed her hands. ‘I've got a little niece, just twenty-one,' he said, ‘so I know how your family must be feeling.'

‘We're all numb with shock,' I said, since Annabel didn't seem able to say anything. ‘But of course it's Annabel who's suffering most.'

‘What's all this about your mother's will?' he asked me, after a few moments' silence. ‘Lorna had a word with Edwina about it, asking her to contact us. She felt you needed someone in your corner, I think. So here I am.'

‘Lovely to see you, anyway. Come in.'

‘Grace and I feel that your mother made that will thinking she'd be married to this George Williams long before she passed away.'

‘I suppose so. It was only made in the week before she died.'

‘So it could be contested.'

‘But I don't think I'd want to contest it.'

‘No, I didn't think you would.'

Rhydian and I sat one on each side of the table looking at each other. ‘I shall miss being down here, though,' I said. ‘I intended to stay for a month or two.'

‘Yes, I was hoping you might.'

‘You two are in love, aren't you?' Annabel asked me, as soon as he'd left.

‘I tried to tell you about it,' I said.

‘Are you going to live with him?'

‘No. He's married with children.'

‘Are you going to tell Paul about him?'

‘Do you think I should?'

‘How should I know? How should I know anything?'

She suddenly hurled herself onto the sofa and was sobbing again, sobbing so uncontrollably that I could hardly make out what she was saying. ‘I don't want you to leave us. I don't want you to leave us.'

Annabel's world had turned upside down. For ten years, I'd had to get used to being the despised intruder in her life; now she didn't seem prepared to live without me. Laurie Bridgewater was shortly to be dispensed with and the baby she'd planned to get rid of was to take Selena's place. I tried to think of something comforting and wise to say, but failed to come up with anything. My world was pretty unsteady too.

When Paul phoned that evening I was able to tell him that we'd spoken to the minister and that Annabel and I had arranged the funeral for two o'clock on Friday afternoon, which would give him and Francesca plenty of time to drive down from London.

‘You're so good to me,' he said in such a humble voice that I knew there was more to come. ‘I don't deserve you, Kate. You're having to cope with Annabel immediately after losing your mother, and Annabel's not your responsibility, but mine. And I know how difficult she can be. How is she, darling? Did she like the minister?'

‘She loved him.'

‘Is Laurie with you?'

‘No, he phoned earlier, but Annabel put him off.'

‘Why was that? I thought they seemed very close?'

‘That was yesterday.'

‘Francesca will be so disappointed. She really took to Laurie. I wonder what happened?'

‘I'll let you talk to her. I think she has some other news for you, too.'

‘Don't go yet, I need to talk to you... I don't know how to tell you this, Kate, but I have to...You know how badly shocked Francesca was – well, last night when we got to her home, she had a terrible fit of near-hysteria and I simply couldn't leave her. I stayed with her... Do you understand what I'm trying to say?'

‘Not really. Do you mean you had to stay with her until the doctor came to sedate her?'

‘Kate, you know what I mean. And I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean it to happen and I feel wretched about letting you down. Please say something. Please say you understand. You know how tragic the circumstances are. We've lost a child, Kate. It's not altogether surprising that we need to cling together, is it?'

My anger, or fit of pique, left me. ‘No, it's not surprising. In fact, Annabel and I talked about the possibility of you and Francesca getting back together. And I've always known how much she's meant to you.'

‘But you've always meant a great deal to me, too, Kate. I've always loved you, you know that. I still do love you. And admire you. And respect you. It's just that...'

‘Yes, I know. I know all that... But I don't think there's much point in prolonging this talk now, do you? We'll still be friends, I'm confident of that. But let's get the funeral over before we start on any other emotional matters. Would you like a word with Annabel?'

‘Not now. Tell her I'll ring again tomorrow. Oh, you don't know how upset I am, Kate.'

What was the matter with me? As soon as I put the phone down I was full of pity for Paul. Though I knew I should have been feeling hurt and aggrieved at the way he'd treated me – it was obvious I'd been nothing but a stopgap for years – I knew how guilty he was feeling, and more than that, realised he was going to be hurt again. He was letting himself believe that Francesca had turned to him at last, out of some hidden but abiding love for him, but I felt sure it was only from a very temporary need. I was ready to blame Francesca, but couldn't find it in me to feel much anger towards Paul. He was behaving foolishly, but at least he had the best possible excuse for it: he'd always loved Francesca. I'd been as foolish as he had, trying to believe it was over.