Summer on the River (13 page)

‘No, no. I've never managed to commit.' She takes a tissue from her shoulder bag and begins to wipe Maisie's fingers.

‘And are you and Benj …?' He has to ask the question.

‘No,' she answers quickly. Then ‘What d'you mean?' She looks at him; her face is creased with confusion. ‘I like him. He's easy to talk to.' A little pause. ‘Why d'you call him Benj?'

‘Oh, well, that's what his mother always called him. She died when he was quite young, about eleven, and I kept it up. I hoped it would be … comforting, I suppose.'

She stares at him, the confusion smoothed away, smiling a little.

‘That's sweet,' she says.

Maisie, who has been examining the next stall, comes hopping back. ‘Is it time for the dog show, Jemima?' she asks eagerly.

‘Dog show?' Charlie looks blank.

Jemima bursts out laughing. ‘Any minute now in the Royal Avenue Gardens.'

Maisie looks intently at Charlie. ‘Are you coming with us?' she asks hopefully.

‘I'd love to,' he says at once, casting all sanity and discretion to the winds, and she seizes his hand and hops along beside him.

‘Are you my daddy?' she asks him, quite naturally, and he receives his second shock of the day.

‘No,' he says, staring down at her wistful, hopeful face. ‘No, Maisie. I'm not. I've got two girls of my own. Much bigger than you are.'

She looks regretful, makes a little grimace of disappointment, and then Jemima catches her hand from the other side and they plunge into the crowds in the Royal Avenue Gardens.

CLAUDE WATCHES THEM
go. He sees what, at a casual glance, seems to be a perfectly normal-looking little family enjoying regatta, but he knows that this is not the case. He cannot imagine what the woman and the little girl he and Evie saw at Torcross the day before yesterday are doing with Charlie and he tries, without success, to conjure up various scenarios in which they might have met and become so friendly.

When he first saw them at the coffee stall he was struck by a sense of such intimacy between them that he assumed it was Ben. It's quite possible that Ben and Jemima have met somewhere locally and been attracted to each other. As soon as he realized that it was Charlie, Claude was filled with misgiving: it's not Charlie's style to chat up pretty women and drink coffee at a stall with them. And what if Ange should arrive on the scene?

Even as he thinks this, he sees her approaching along the Embankment. Ange never strolls or saunters: she walks as if there is a train to catch; short quick steps, head slightly jutting forward. In a few moments she will be passing the stall. Claude hurries towards them. Perhaps it is all quite innocent but, just in case, he will join the little party; reacquaint himself with Jemima, muddy the waters somehow to make it all seem quite natural. But, even as he approaches, Maisie seizes Charlie's hand and the three of them disappear into the crowd of holidaymakers.

Quickly Claude steps behind a booth as Ange draws level and stomps by, shopping bag over her shoulder, intent on her mission. He watches her go, relieved that she didn't see Charlie. Claude is still feeling cross with her for nearly disrupting the mood of last night's little party.

‘What a tiresome woman she can be,' he said to Evie when the three of them had gone. ‘You really spiked her guns, though. You could see her brain working overtime, wondering if you were really serious. Poor old Charlie.'

‘She's a very good wife and mother,' Evie answered thoughtfully. ‘Very focused on what the family needs.'

He very nearly said that it was like Marianne and TDF all over again.

‘Women are so damned sensible,' TDF said to him once in the pub. ‘They can never let go just for a moment and be silly. They're so afraid they might lose control. I suppose they get all the stress out of their systems with their girlfriends and we're supposed to be doing it over this pint we're having, Claude. But wouldn't it be good just to actually have some fun with one's wife? Let off steam and just be silly and happy together for a few hours.'

It was quite a speech for TDF, who was such a placid fellow. Claude was surprised and, oddly, rather touched by TDF's intensity. His reaction was to try to make him laugh.

‘You mean like that song from
My Fair Lady
? “Why Can't a Woman Be More Like a Man?”' He began to sing it, being first Rex Harrison and then Wilfrid Hyde-White. Jilly loved musicals – she'd been brought up on them, and knew so many songs by heart – and this was one of her favourites. He sang it to TDF – quietly but guying it up, acting it out – until they were both laughing so much he couldn't sing any more and the other people in the bar were laughing with them and joining in.

It was not long afterwards, Claude remembers, that TDF met Evie. They certainly had fun together; it wasn't so much a steamy passionate affair as simply two people of like minds who enjoyed the other's company.

Now, standing on the Embankment, with the throng of happy visitors enjoying regatta sweeping around him, Claude anxiously wonders if history might be about to repeat itself and if he should mention it to Evie. On reflection he decides not to. She was very quiet after supper, thinking about TDF.

‘You can't imagine how much I miss him,' she said.

‘Oh, I can,' he answered. ‘I miss him too. He could always make me laugh, diffuse tension, give me a sense of perspective.'

‘And there was you, too, Claude,' she said. ‘I was so lucky. Thank God for you.'

She put an arm round his shoulders and hugged him, and he felt foolish and emotional and didn't know how to react.

‘Well,' he said lightly, ‘I can't think of a better moment to ask a huge favour. Well, two, actually.'

She looked at him, amused, eyebrows raised. ‘Go on then.'

‘First one. The family are going skiing for Christmas. I could go but I don't particularly want to, and they don't really want me tagging along, so I was wondering …'

‘If you could come here?' Evie's face was bright with pleasure. ‘But that would be wonderful, Claude. I'd love it. It's usually such a dreary time for me on my own but with you here and Ben across the road it'll be worth making plans for.'

He took courage from her delight to make his second request.

‘There's more.'

She laughed at his expression. ‘Whatever can it be?'

‘It's a really huge ask, this one.'

‘Spit it out.'

‘They've decided the annexe needs extending. They want to build a room above it to give them more space so it means I have to move out for a few weeks. I can go into the house with them in the little spare room but, to be honest, I can see it'll be a big upheaval for everyone. I've been screwing up my courage to ask if I could come to stay.'

‘You daft old bugger,' she said affectionately. ‘Of course you can come. You know I'd love it.'

‘I was thinking that if you got tired of me I could go over and stay with Ben. Get out of your hair.'

She put both arms round him then, holding him tightly.

‘Shut up. You're staying with me. That's settled.'

They stood together for a moment, sharing the affection and security of their long friendship, and then drew apart, smiling at each other.

‘So when do you want to come?'

‘It sounds as if it might be the middle of October,' he answered. ‘Once I get back I'll be able to give you a date. Thanks, Evie.'

Now, he feels an almost overwhelming desire to go back and tell her about Charlie but he can't decide whether it is disloyal to drop Charlie in it. After all, what was he actually doing? Simply having a cup of coffee at a stall and chatting to a woman isn't a crime. And the little girl was with them: it was hardly a secret assignation.

Nevertheless, he instinctively knows that there is more to it than that. He remembers the way they stood, looked at each other, as if they were enclosed in a shiny bubble of their own devising: secret and separate and inviolable. Even the child accepted it; she'd taken Charlie's hand so naturally, as if he belonged to them. And then, as if protected by a magic cloak in a fairy story, they disappeared just as Ange came stomping by.

As he stands watching a skiff flying over the water he wonders where they are now; whether they might blunder into Ange on her way back from the shops. He feels an odd instinct to protect them though he knows he shouldn't be encouraging them. His problem is that he doesn't like Ange any more than he liked Marianne. He liked seeing TDF off the hook, relaxing and having fun, rather than being harried and controlled and treated rather like a wayward schoolboy. TDF grafted, he loved his son, was a great host – but there was so little real joy and, once Charlie began boarding school, very little fun.

‘Laughter's addictive, Claude,' TDF once said. ‘Once you start laughing you just want more of it.'

Claude wonders how he will react when he next meets Charlie. Will he be able to pretend that he hasn't seen Charlie and Jemima together? He feels he's witnessed something intensely private – which is ridiculous in the circumstances. Perhaps he should follow them and casually bump into them so as to see Charlie's reaction. Even as Claude considers it, Charlie emerges from the Royal Avenue Gardens and wanders across the road, hands in pockets. Claude hurries towards him and steps in front of him.

‘Hi, Claude,' Charlie says.

Claude stares curiously at him. Charlie's eyes are bright, wide and amazed, as if he has just seen something infinitely precious. He smiles at Claude, evidently trying to contain some strong emotion, only just preventing himself from bursting into joyful laughter.

‘Charlie.' Claude puts a hand on the younger man's arm. How strong and warm and vital it feels, tensed beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. ‘I see you've made some new friends.' He speaks out with reluctance yet he is unable to pretend he doesn't know.

Charlie's eyes focus on him, his eyebrows rise – and he laughs. No guilt here, then; no awkwardness.

‘Yes,' he agrees, still laughing, inviting Claude to share his happiness. ‘What an amazing pair. Do you know them?'

Claude shakes his head. ‘Only met them once, on Torcross Line, eating ice cream.'

‘Yes, Jemima said that's where she lives. She knows Benj.'

‘
Does
she?'

‘Mmm. Not very well. She mistook me for him.'

‘How extraordinary.'

Charlie shrugs. ‘It's happened to me and Benj before but not quite like this. Never like this. Look,' he lays his hand briefly on the older man's shoulder, ‘I must get back. See you later, Claude.'

Claude watches him go, smiles and raises his hand. Yet, as he turns away and gazes across the river to the guardship, with its attendants of much smaller craft, he knows that things will never be quite the same again.

JEMIMA HOLDS TIGHTLY
to Maisie's hand as they wait for the Park and Ride bus to take them back up through the town to the car park. Maisie chatters to her about the dogs they've just seen but she hardly hears her though she answers, ‘Yes, the Labrador looked just like Otto. He was my favourite,' and, ‘I liked the little fluffy one, too,' whilst her thoughts leap and flash like fish in a waterfall. She simply can't concentrate her mind.

‘I wish we could've stayed longer,' Maisie says.

‘But we must get back for Otto,' says Jemima. She is surprised that her voice sounds quite normal. ‘Poor old Otto. He'll be wondering where we are.'

Inside her head other voices speak:
Are you mad? He's married. I want to see him again
.

‘Shall I see you again?' Charlie asked when she said that they must go.

‘I don't see how,' she answered. ‘I mean … well, how can we?'

‘But you want to?'

She stared at him and then burst out laughing because that's how he made her feel: joyful, light, happy.

‘You know I do. Go away, Charlie,' and she turned and walked away from him, not quite seeing where she was going but clinging to Maisie's hand. Once, she glanced back. He was still standing there, watching them leave, and he raised his hand. Still laughing, feeling quite mad, she took her scarf from around her neck and waved it wildly so that he should see it above the heads of the visitors.

Now, as the bus carries them up the hill, she can't quite repress the bubble of excitement that still fizzes inside her. It's impossible, wrong, unthinkable – yet she is so happy. How strange that he should look so like Ben and yet be so different. But what exactly is the difference? How to describe it? She is drawn to Ben; he is intuitive, laid-back, unthreatening. Charlie shares those qualities but there's an extra element: some indefinable alchemy that worked like strong magic.

Jemima unlocks the car, helps Maisie on to her child seat and clips on her seat belt. She has won a toy – a small dolly – at the fair and she takes it out of the little rucksack she wears to examine it, showing it again to Jemima, who nods and smiles at the child's earnest expression. She's glad Maisie was with her. It made it all so much easier though she can't exactly think why; perhaps Maisie's presence protected her from behaving foolishly. The prospect of seeing Charlie alone is both exhilarating and terrifying.

The car is hot and stuffy and Jemima puts down the windows before she drives away. Never has the familiar coastal drive been more beautiful: she notices everything as if she hasn't really seen it before. Smooth yellow beaches tucked in neatly at the feet of steep granite cliffs; a roadside edging of wild flowers – papery red poppies, shiny yellow buttercups, elegant pink campion; the distant dazzle of the sea curving in a sweep along Torcross Line and on towards Start Point. The whole landscape is brighter, more defined, infinitely precious to her.