Second Chance (23 page)

‘You were right about your parents,' I told Annabel when she came in from the garden. ‘They are getting back together. It was Paul on the phone.'

‘Oh Kate, I hope you don't mind too much. Of course it was what Selena and I planned for and dreamed about for years, but now I feel sorry for both of them. Francesca's at a desperately low ebb, but she'll bounce back before too long, and then Paul's going to suffer all over again.'

Was Annabel unnaturally mature, or was I unnaturally naive? ‘They may live happily ever after,' I said. ‘Or at least, learn to tolerate each other.'

‘We both know that's not at all likely. Listen, I'm frightfully hungry. Can we go out for a curry?'

‘A curry?' I tried to hide my amazement. Where did she think we were? ‘Well, I suppose there could be an Indian restaurant in Abernon, six or seven miles away. There are a couple of fish and chip shops there anyway and two or three hotels. Yes, let's go out. By all means. There could be a nightclub and a sex shop there now, for all I know.'

‘Do you think Lewis would like to come with us?'

I tried to appear equally nonchalant about this suggestion. After all, he wasn't a Roman Catholic priest who'd taken a vow of chastity. I tried to dismiss visions of the Reverend William Pierce, large and stern, from my mind. ‘He said he had a hospital visit. But he might be back home now. We could ring him, I suppose.'

I fetched the telephone book from the cupboard by the fireplace and passed it to her.

My mother's handbag was in the same cupboard. I held it close for a second or two but found I couldn't open it. I still wasn't ready for the well-remembered smell of spilt powder, eau de cologne and peppermints, or to come across her worn black purse stuffed full of special-offer coupons, old receipts and out-of-date guarantees, and her precious reading glasses in the tooled leather case Paul had once brought her from Florence. He'd always been fond of my mother. And she of him. Though I don't think she'd be ready to forgive him for dumping me. I sighed, put the handbag back in its place and closed the cupboard. Annabel was already on the phone. Life went hurtling on.

‘I said we'd pick him up in five minutes. I think Selena would be quite interested in Lewis, don't you? He'd probably remind her of that picture of the young Rossetti. Shall I leave my hair as it is, or put it up?'

I looked over at her, giving her my fullest attention. ‘Put it up,' I said. I felt we were playing some complicated game of which neither of us knew the rules.

I found myself seeing Lewis Owen in a different way, not as a gauche youth trying to be wise beyond his years, but simply as one of Annabel's contemporaries whom she'd fallen for. I failed to see him as pre-Raphaelite angel, but could see that the pale, almost translucent skin, sea-green eyes and the bright red hair made a startling statement. And Annabel approved of startling statements, I was aware of that.

How experienced was this boy? When I was at university, theological students were regarded as dangerously fast, ‘getting it in while they could,' being the widely held explanation. Experienced or not, I hoped he wouldn't be alarmed by Annabel's apparent sophistication which was only, I realised by this time, a cover for a pathetic lack of self-confidence. I wished I could tell him how hurt and vulnerable she was.

Perhaps he understood, because he listened to every outrageous thing she said, showing neither surprise nor shock.

‘I was hoping to live in Kate's cottage for the next year or so,' she told him while we were still munching poppadums, waiting for our meal to be cooked. ‘You see, I'm two months' pregnant and I don't want to marry the father, and he certainly doesn't want to marry me – in fact, he and I are no longer together, so I thought living up there would give me a chance to settle down and grow up.'

‘It would have been far too isolated,' I said.

‘And settling down and growing up sounds much too extreme,' Lewis added. ‘It would be punishing yourself.'

‘Anyway, Kate's mum left it to a certain George Rhys Williams, so it's not an option. And Kate doesn't feel like contesting the will, though I think she should. What do you think, Lewis?'

‘No, I don't think she should. Mrs Rivers and George Williams were childhood sweethearts. They intended to get married.'

‘And in any case, it reverts to me after George's death.'

‘I think you're a very old-fashioned, romantic boy, Lewis,' Annabel said. ‘Do you have a childhood sweetheart?'

‘No. I'm fancy-free and open to offers.'

Luckily, our food arrived before Annabel had a chance to follow that up and for a while they both seemed content to concentrate on eating to the exclusion of everything else. ‘Try this.' ‘Oh, try this.' ‘This is really good and hot, this is.' ‘Fantastic.'

I felt middle-aged in their company, eating moderately, being less than moderately impressed by the food, and soon thinking again of my personal problems: my life after Paul, how different it would be, the initial loneliness, the challenge of building a new life, the part Rhydian might be able to play in it. Rhydian. Would he ring me later tonight?

It suddenly came to me that Annabel might end up living with me: Annabel and her baby. And strangely enough, the thought didn't appal me, but slipped smoothly and painlessly into my consciousness. It would make some sort of sense of the years I'd spent with her father; the baby might compensate, in some measure, for the baby I hadn't had the courage to have. Tomorrow I'd phone my agent to see if there was anything going for me. I needed work. I had some money saved, but not enough for three people.

‘I had decided to have an abortion,' Annabel was telling Lewis. ‘As a matter of fact it was arranged for tomorrow morning. But when Selena died, it changed everything. Can you understand that?'

‘Absolutely. You were perfectly right. Don't you think so, Miss Rivers?'

‘Oh, don't call her Miss Rivers. It sounds so affected.'

‘Annabel bullies everyone,' I said. ‘You'll have to get used to it.' I stopped short as I realised that I was implying some sort of relationship developing between them. ‘I mean,
people
have to get used to it. But they're usually fairly happy about it.'

‘What are you talking about, Kate? I'm not bullying anyone. I'm simply letting Lewis know that he doesn't have to be so formal with us. We're not his parishioners, after all, and this isn't a Jane Austen novel.'

‘I've never had time to read much Jane Austen,' Lewis said. And was then treated to a diatribe from Annabel on what an overrated and rotten writer she was, how
Emma
was the most boring book she'd ever read, apart, possibly, from
Sense and Sensibility
and
Pride and Prejudice.

I looked up, expecting to see Lewis smiling wryly, but no, he was clearly ready to be impressed with everything she said.

We ordered ice creams, two large and one small, and three coffees.

The young Asian waiter who brought them, pushed a piece of paper at me. ‘Sign please,' he said and I took a pen from my bag and wrote my name, adding the date and my best wishes.

‘Whatever are you doing, Kate? Haven't you got your cheque book? Good Lord, was he asking for your autograph? Whatever next.' She grimaced at Lewis, afterwards looking rather pleased.

‘Do people often recognise you?' Lewis Owen asked. ‘You've got a very exciting job, haven't you?'

‘Completely inessential, though. Essentially inessential.'

‘Nonsense. You contribute to people's well-being. Which is what I try to do, too. To a lesser degree, of course.'

Did I contribute to people's well-being? Was that what I did? I smiled into my coffee, sat back and let the rest of their conversation wash over me.

They were still talking in the car as I drove home, Annabel now telling him how intelligent and wise and hard-working Selena had been, while she'd been an attention-grabbing delinquent, as different from her as possible. Having heard all this before, I could only sigh with some impatience, but Lewis Owen took both her hands and said, ‘From now on, you have to be Annabel
and
Selena. That way, you'll keep her alive for everyone.'

‘There's no way I could manage that,' Annabel said, her voice anguished.

We'd reached the Manse by this time. I stopped the car to let him out. ‘You'll manage it,' he said, leaning over to kiss her. He got out of the car and waved to us as we pulled away.

I was again aware of some impressive streak in his character. Perhaps it was grace.

Early next morning while I was still in my dressing gown – and would have been still in bed if it hadn't been for Arthur's loud and persistent demands for food – someone came to the front door, ringing the bell several times.

It was Mrs Tudor Davies, Lorna's mother-in-law. ‘Can't stop,' she said, pushing past me into the house, ‘I'm on my way to work. Only I've just heard about your mother's will and I'm tamping mad. I'm going to have a word with George Williams, I can tell you.' Her large chest, encased in tight pink overall, rose and fell.

I took a deep breath. She was terrifying even when she was on your side. ‘It's good of you to be so concerned, but I'm glad you contacted me before doing anything. The thing is, I like George Williams and I'm pleased to think he'll have this house in his old age. Lorna was telling me that he's always lived with his sister and her family and it can't have been easy for him.'

‘Easy? Not easy at all. His sister is a terrible woman, everybody dislikes her. She's got a tongue like a whiplash.'

‘And it does revert to me after his death. And, you know, I couldn't live here full-time and that doesn't do a house any good, does it? I think George Williams will take good care of it and of Arthur, too.'

I thought she'd consider me weak and foolish, but she looked at me with something close to approval. ‘If that's what you want,' she said, ‘I'll say no more about it.' She nodded her head several times, then looked over at me again. ‘The other thing I wanted to mention was the organ fund. I suppose you know that Horeb is celebrating its bicentenary next year and we're aiming to replace the organ. Now I know Lewis Owen is too much of a milksop to mention it to you as you're not a member, but I thought you might like to make a contribution in memory of your dear mother.'

‘I would. I certainly would. Thank you for bringing it to my attention.'

‘And I hear you've had another tragedy in the family and that there's to be another funeral at Horeb.'

‘That's right. My young stepdaughter, Selena. Twenty-one years old.'

‘Terrible. Terrible. Is there anything I can do in the way of a small, private repast, family only? No charge. Cost of food only.'

‘That's very kind of you, but I feel her parents and her sister might be more at ease back here. There'll only be the four of us, you see, so it might be less of a strain. But I'll certainly mention the organ fund. Yes, I think I can safely say that the new organ is home and dry.'

A small relaxation of the mouth, not quite a smile. ‘I'll go then. I wanted to know what you felt about the will, because if you were contesting, I'd be fighting for you, you can be sure of that.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Davies.'

She nodded at me, but with her hand on the doorknob, turned and said, ‘Oh no, Maggie I am, to friends.'

I felt as though I'd done well in some important audition.

Rhydian hadn't phoned the previous night as he'd promised, I'd had to fight hard against the desire to phone him as I waited and waited for his call. Even when I gave up and went to bed, I still couldn't sleep, realising how much hearing his voice meant to me. Did this foreshadow my life from now on? Over the years, I'd had many friends and colleagues with married lovers; they all had a certain fragility, a wavering look whenever a telephone rang, at times almost a caged expression. Was this to be my future?

In the middle of my self-examination, I heard his car drawing up, saw him passing the window, heard his tap on the door. ‘I couldn't ring last night,' he said.

‘It doesn't matter. You're here now.' I was in his arms and nothing else counted. Until the next time.

‘Annabel's upstairs and the postwoman will be here soon and she mustn't see your car. We must be careful. You know that.'

‘I know.' Oh yes, he knew how careful we had to be. ‘Only I need to touch you. Here.' His eyes were wide and pleading as he put his hand inside my dressing gown, stroked my breast very lightly, ran the flat of his hand down my belly. But one touch led to another and the hands which were so gentle became urgent and probing and my longing for him was so intense there was nothing else in the world, nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. He knelt before me, his tongue like a flame inside me; I wanted to be consumed by him, broken in two, destroyed. I'd never known such long-drawn-out climbing or such a heavenly, heavenly fall. I knelt on the floor with him, my arms around him, whispering love words in his ear, adoring him.