Summer on the River (19 page)

Claude can't decide whether to laugh or cry. All his terrors of this meeting have now very nearly been fully realized. It only needs for Jemima to admit that she and Charlie have fallen madly in love to cap Evie's revelations.

Jemima is staring at Evie with an expression in which awe, amusement and respect are nicely blended.

‘Gosh!' she says. ‘That's … well, that sounds fascinating.'

‘Does it?' Evie bursts out laughing. ‘It's not a particularly unusual story. Would you like some more coffee?'

‘Yes, please,' says Jemima enthusiastically. She leans forward. ‘So where did you meet Charlie's father?'

Claude gives a tiny groan and pushes back his chair. They glance up at him questioningly, very slightly impatiently, as if he is distracting them from their conversation.

‘Going to get the newspaper,' he says. ‘No more coffee, thanks. Good to meet you again, Jemima. See you later, perhaps.'

He hurries away from them, stops for a quick dash to the loo, and goes out into the sunshine. As he climbs the steep steps to the road above – heart pounding, legs aching – he thinks of what Evie has said about these steps; about the lack of sunshine in the winter. All true, of course, but even so, just blurting it out like that to a stranger – and telling her she was TDF's mistress! After all his anxiety, he thinks bitterly, lest Evie should discover Charlie's meeting with Jemima and his entrancement with her, or Jemima should be taken aback by the boys bursting in unexpectedly, and then they just blurt it all out and settle down for a gossip.

‘Women!' he exclaims aloud, as he gains the road.

He turns down Bayard's Hill, making for the Dartmouth Arms. Damn the paper: what he needs is a stiff drink.

After Claude has gone, Jemima settles more comfortably. She's been aware that Claude was a little on edge once they started discussing the house and Ben and Charlie. She can understand that: he is more reserved, less able to let it all hang out. She likes Claude: likes him a lot. There's something stable about him; something reassuring.

‘Don't worry about Claude bolting like that,' Evie is saying. ‘He always bolts when things get a bit emotional.'

Jemima laughs. ‘Sorry. It's just that word always makes me think about my dear old late-lamented mum,' she says. ‘My sister always called her the Bolter. She left Brigid with her father and bolted off with mine, then she bolted again, taking me with her, though. Her last bolt was to Portugal when she was in her seventies. She had a lot of fun.'

Evie smiles at her. ‘Perhaps that's why you weren't shocked when I said I'd been Tommy's mistress.'

Jemima shrugs. ‘Why would I be shocked? So his name was Tommy.'

‘Mmm.' Evie seems surprised at herself. ‘I usually don't use it except to myself. That was just between him and me. His wife called him Thomas and his family called him TDF.'

Jemima is fascinated. ‘TDF?'

‘They were his initials. Thomas David Fortescue. His aunts and very old friends called him The Darling Fellow.'

Jemima laughs with delight. ‘I love it. Is Claude one of those friends?'

‘Yes.' Evie nods. ‘He was the only friend who knew about us. The family live in London, they're wine importers, but Tommy always enjoyed a visit alone to Dartmouth. I met him just up there at the top of the steps. He was coming out of his house and I'd just finished viewing this one. We went off and had a drink together and that was that.'

Jemima is entranced, almost fearful; her meeting with Charlie resonates in her head.

‘Did he look like Charlie?' she asks.

‘Incredibly like,' says Evie. ‘And about the same age.'

‘Then I can understand why,' says Jemima frankly. ‘Pretty devastating, aren't they? And did his wife never find out?'

‘Not as far as we knew. I never went to London and Marianne rarely came to Dartmouth except with a little house party for regatta. I stayed well clear.'

‘Did Charlie know?' Jemima can't help herself; she wants to know everything. It's so weird that she should be sitting here with Charlie's stepmother, and Evie is nice, so open and warm and fun.

‘I asked him later. Once Marianne had died and Tommy and I were married. He was a grown man, married with children of his own. Things were said, accidentally, that must have made him suspect. I decided to be honest with him. He said he'd guessed but he was quite comfortable with it.'

‘She died,' Jemima says slowly.

‘Mmm. About ten years after I met him. There was never any question of divorce.'

Her look is very clear, very direct, and Jemima stares back at her. It is as if Evie is warning her, preparing her.

‘Did that bother you?'

‘Not particularly. I had my own work, this house, friends. I was very happy with things the way they were. I never really considered myself marriage material.'

Jemima gives a little cry. ‘God, this is surreal. It might be me saying that. I always say I'm mistress material.'

‘And you've never been married?'

‘No. There was once when I might have been tempted, but he went back to his girlfriend. I was glad afterwards. I like to be independent. Perhaps I'm just too selfish.'

‘And you're all having supper together?'

Jemima nods. ‘Safety in numbers.'

Her light remark sounds very slightly bitter and she glances quickly at Evie, who watches her compassionately.

‘What a pity it isn't Ben,' she says gently.

‘I like Ben,' Jemima says quickly. ‘I really like him.'

‘Mmm,' says Evie. ‘Not quite the same, though, is it?'

Jemima suddenly feels immeasurably sad. She wants to be comforted and reassured and strengthened. It's an odd reaction to the woman sitting opposite. After all, it would never have crossed her mind to feel like that about her own mother. Frummie was the last person to show any maternal feelings, and Evie doesn't seem to be in the least motherly either. Yet there is something here, some odd kind of recognition that is almost tangible between them; a connection at some deep level.

Jemima sighs and sits up straighter. ‘Not quite the same,' she agrees. ‘I know this sounds really strange but I rather think I need them both.'

And suddenly the atmosphere is light again, Evie bursts out laughing and says, ‘Well, good luck with that, darling,' and Jemima feels ready to cope with anything that might lie in the future.

When she leaves they hug each other and Evie says, ‘Come again soon.'

Jemima nods, and then hurries away to catch the bus back to the car; to prepare for the evening ahead.

When Claude gets back Evie has lunch ready for him. She feels guilty that she spoke so openly with Jemima about things that previously she has only shared with Claude and she realizes that it must have been a shock to him when she talked of moving to the Merchant's House.

‘I don't quite know why it all came out like that,' she says as they sit down together. She can see that he's still hurt, though he's been mellowed by a pint of beer, and she decides to be quite honest. ‘It rather surprised me, too, but I feel so at ease with her. I really like her, don't you?'

He nods, his mouth full of cold beef, and gesticulates impatiently with his fork, indicating that that has never been in question.

‘Of course I like her,' he says at last. ‘You couldn't not. She's so genuine.'

‘That's exactly it,' agrees Evie, relieved. ‘You feel you've known her for ever. And it was such a surprise when she said she'd met the boys.'

‘Not to me,' says Claude gloomily.

‘Not?'

He shakes his head. ‘I saw her with Charlie in the town. Just standing there together like they were in a world all of their own. Then they all disappeared into the crowd seconds before Ange came by.'

Evie stares at him in amazement. ‘When was this? You didn't tell me. And when you say “all” …?'

‘It was on Saturday morning. She had Maisie with her. They were having coffee and ice creams at one of the stalls. Jemima and Charlie were just completely wrapped up in each other. And then I saw Ange coming. I thought if I got there in time I could pretend we were all meeting by chance, if you see what I mean, but they suddenly just vanished into Royal Avenue Gardens.'

‘But why didn't you tell me?' She allows herself to sound just the slightest bit aggrieved.

Claude shifts uncomfortably. ‘I didn't quite know how to put it. He said that first of all she'd mistaken him for Ben.'

‘You
talked
to Charlie about it?'

‘He reappeared on his own, you see, looking like he'd been hit by a brick. I decided to be open about it, that I'd seen them together, but it was like speaking to a man under a spell and then Ange turned up and that was that. And later there was all that business about the cartoons up on the terrace.'

He looks so anxious, so miserable, that she puts out a hand to him.

‘It's all a bit of a muddle, isn't it?' she admits. ‘I'm sorry I blurted out all those things without warning, Claude. Especially my idea about moving across the road. To be honest, it's only a tiny idea at the moment and I don't quite know whether it's complete madness. That's why I haven't mentioned it to you.'

He looks a little happier; they're on level ground again.

‘The thing that shook me,' he says, still slightly indignantly, ‘was that you were so open with her about you and TDF on such short acquaintance. I suppose that having seen her with Charlie it was a bit like déjà vu. It was almost like you were encouraging her.'

Evie begins to laugh. ‘Perhaps I was. Nice for Charlie to have a bit of fun for a change. What a pity it isn't Ben.'

‘And now they're all going out this evening together.' He still sounds glum.

‘Safety in numbers,' she says.

‘We shouldn't be encouraging them, though, should we?'

She looks at him, smiling a little. ‘You didn't say that about me and TDF.'

He snorts. ‘It was too late by the time I knew about it. Anyway, Charlie isn't TDF and Jemima isn't you. And Ange isn't Marianne.'

‘Meaning?'

He takes a deep breath, giving himself time to marshal his thoughts. ‘Marianne was a very up-together woman. She had projects, charities, Charlie to organize, the business to keep tabs on. Her life was never just TDF. She was busy, fulfilled, and actually very generous. Look at the way she took Ben under her wing when his mother died.'

‘Are you trying to make me feel guilty?'

‘Of course not,' he answers impatiently. ‘Don't for God's sake start behaving like a woman and taking this personally. All I'm saying is that even if Marianne suspected, I doubt she'd have been the sort to throw a hissy fit. After all, you never took him away from her for very long, did you? A few days here and there throughout the year? And that's what I mean about TDF. He compartmentalized his life. You were in the Dartmouth file. He adored you, you know that, but you were his life here and you never interfered with his family or his business. And you were rather the same, Evie, weren't you? You said so yourself. You weren't jealous or resentful or lonely. You were writing. For most of your life you were totally immersed in another world and a whole cast of characters from which you were quite content to emerge occasionally and have fun with TDF. You were always completely absorbed by your work, almost longing to get back to it. It was your reality and TDF was part of your down time; little jollies before you got back to the real thing. I don't think Jemima would be like that. If they were to become lovers I think she would want much more of Charlie than a few days here and there, and I'm damned sure Ange wouldn't be philosophical about it if she ever found out.'

‘And Charlie?' She's taken aback by Claude's speech; slightly unnerved by his insight. ‘What about Charlie?'

Claude is silent for a moment. His gaze is inward as if he is thinking about Charlie; imagining him in this situation.

‘TDF was a very confident man,' he says at last. ‘He was laid-back, always optimistic, but he was tough, too. He was used to being loved and approved. All the dear old aunts bringing him up to believe in himself but without spoiling him; the security he lived in, his inheritance, gave him total confidence. He was grounded, generous to his friends. He embraced it all: you, Marianne, Charlie, his friends, the business. He had it all. It must have been a colossal shock when he discovered that he wasn't entitled to his inheritance but deep down it wouldn't have made any difference to the essential TDF.'

He falls silent and Evie waits, moved by what he has said.

‘Charlie doesn't have quite the same genetic brew,' he continues, ‘and he was brought up in a much more protective way. Marianne watched over him like a hawk, guided him, told him what to think, approved his friends – or not. He kicked over the traces once or twice but generally his default mode was to listen to her. To trust her judgement. He's known Ange from childhood, Marianne loved her, showed him how right Ange was for him.' Claude shakes his head, as if to get his thoughts clear. ‘I'm not sure that Charlie would be able to sideline all of that. Do you see what I'm saying? He's very loyal to Ange and his girls. He might think he can live two lives, he'll certainly imagine that he wants to give it a go, but I'm afraid that it might destroy him in the end.'

There is a silence.

‘I hear what you say,' says Evie slowly, ‘but I wonder if you're right.'

He raises his eyebrows. ‘I'll be very glad if you prove me wrong, I promise you.'

‘I agree with you in part, of course I do, when you talk about his upbringing, his deference to his mother, his loyalty to Ange and his girls. But I think there's an awful lot of TDF in Charlie – look at the way he runs the business – and it just needs something to trigger a different aspect of it. Jemima might be just that trigger. I'm not saying that he would enter into a relationship lightly or easily but I think Charlie has glimpsed something very special, which he'll be reluctant to ignore.'