Summer on the River (25 page)

He remembers her visit a few weeks ago. Back from backpacking to Peru, and before setting off for Adelboden, she came down to see them all, making them laugh with stories of her adventures. She took over the attic room with her few possessions – ‘I like to travel light, Dad,' – and told him, one evening at supper in the breakfast room, about Billy. Billy is the brother of a boy she's been at uni with: he's twenty-three and has spent several seasons working in Swiss ski resorts. He speaks fluent French and Italian and now he's got a catering job in one of the hotels.

‘I know it's crazy,' she said, her brown eyes huge with love, ‘but he's just, like, special. He's going to help me with my skiing. There's a group of us going out together so it's going to be amazing.'

Ben was filled with joy and fear, and a twinge of jealousy, that her eyes should shine so brightly for this unknown Billy.

‘Perhaps,' he said diffidently, ‘you could invite him down while you're here. He might like to see Dartmouth.'

She laughed, shaking her head, making a face. ‘Don't worry, Dad, he's quite respectable but it's not really Billy's scene, meeting the rellies. Not just yet, anyway. Maybe when we get back.'

‘Got a photo of him?' he asked hesitantly, not wanting to be pushy but needing to share with her.

She turned on her phone, got up and came around the table to stand beside him, scrolling through the images. He gazed at them: a tough, stocky, cheerful-looking fellow grinned back at him from different attitudes and locations.

‘He looks fun,' he said at last, glancing up at her.

‘Oh, he is,' she answered, her fixed eyes on Billy. ‘He's … well, he's great. Perhaps I could bring him down after Christmas.'

‘That would be fantastic.' Ben tried not to sound too keen, he didn't want to play the heavy father.

She looked down at him, her face bright with love, with joy, with all the expectation and optimism of youth, and he is seized with a whole range of emotions: delight, love, fear, anguish. She is so young: so hopeful and so confident.

‘Be happy, sweetheart,' he said foolishly, and she bent and gave him a quick kiss, and then went back to her chair, talking about how she was going out with Claude the next morning on his scooter.

He let the moment pass. He didn't have to ask her to stay in touch – Laura is very good at texting and emailing – but his heart sank at the prospect of her absence. He was going to miss her random visits: those occasional weekends, those unexpected few days, here in the Merchant's House.

Now, remembering, the joy and gratitude bubbles up in him again. It might have been so different. He might have been living somewhere all alone, wondering how to plan his future. Instead he is here, living in the house he's loved all his life, with Evie across the road and dear old Claude down again soon. And then there's Jemima: they've had a lot of fun during these last few weeks. She's taken him to see some of the cottages so that he can take photographs for the brochure, they've had a few pub lunches and he's cooked supper for her and Evie. They don't talk about Charlie but his presence is almost visible with them. It's as if he is there, sharing the jokes, enjoying the jaunts across the moor or down to the coast. Sometimes it's frustrating but at least it prevents any misunderstandings and it allows a freedom within the friendship that is very precious to him.

Ben switches on the kettle: it's too early for a drink but he'll make some tea. He simply must do something to celebrate his extraordinary good fortune.

Jemima's mobile rings just as she leaves the office: Miranda.

‘Hi,' Jemima says. ‘No, it's OK to talk. I'm just on my way home. How're things?'

‘It's just that I've got a bit of a problem with Maisie. No, she's fine but my mum's got people staying and Maisie's kicking up about staying with her on Saturday night. I suppose you couldn't help out, could you Mimes? I could bring her over on Saturday morning …'

Jemima thinks about it as Miranda continues to outline her weekend, remembering that she and Benj were going to meet up. It was a bit vague, but even so …

‘Tell you what,' she says. ‘Bring Maisie into Dartmouth and I'll meet you in Alf's. Eleven thirty-ish? No, it's fine, honestly.'

‘She's being a right little madam just lately. Anyway, if you're sure?'

‘Quite sure.'

‘See you at Alf's then. Thanks, Mimes.'

Jemima thrusts her phone into her bag and stands for a minute, full of indecision. Part of her is irritated at giving in to Miranda; not that she and Benj had anything particular planned, but having a six-year-old around narrows the options. At the same time she knows it's difficult for Miranda to find reliable childcare at such short notice.

‘Doesn't she have any other friends?' Benj asked once when something similar occurred and they'd had to postpone a visit to the cinema at Dartington.

‘I think she's too busy,' Jemima answered tactfully, not wanting to tell him that Miranda's neediness tends to keep prospective friends at arm's length. ‘And she works antisocial hours. Her mother is very useful, of course, but she's elderly and not very strong so sometimes she can be demanding, too.'

Now, on an impulse, she walks back to the car, lets Otto out for a quick pee and then drives up to Southtown. Ben hasn't been in the office today but he might be at home. She's lucky: there are several parking spaces not far from the Merchant's House and there's a light shining out from the breakfast room. She parks, slides out, and crosses the road to bang on the front door.

Benj opens the door. ‘Hi,' he says. ‘Come in.' He hesitates. ‘Did I know you were coming? I haven't forgotten something?'

‘No,' she says. ‘And I've got Otto. It's just I'm feeling cross and bitchy and stuff like that. Miranda wants me to have Maisie this Saturday and I know we were going to do something or other. And anyway, I just don't feel like it.'

He roars with laughter, opening the door wider. ‘You poor old lambkin,' he says. ‘Go and get Otto and come on in.'

She hurries back to the car, releases Otto, grabs her bag and they go in together, through to the breakfast room.

‘I feel in a real old strop,' she admits, dumping her bag on a chair whilst Otto sniffs around and then drops down contentedly near the table. ‘Oh, yes, please. A cup of tea would be great. Don't take any notice of me.' She frowns a little, studying him curiously. ‘You're looking very chipper, though. Someone given you a present?'

He thinks about it, smiling to himself as if he knows a secret.

‘Yeah. Actually, you could put it like that.' He pushes the mug of tea towards her. ‘So what's this about Saturday?'

She's slightly hurt that he's not going to tell her his secret but she won't show it.

‘Oh, it's just that I feel obliged to help out, even if I've got things organized, and then I get cross with myself for always giving in and saying “yes”. Plus, it's more difficult keeping a child entertained when the evenings draw in. Walking on the beach in the dark isn't so much fun, somehow.'

‘But what's really the trouble?' he asks, wandering from the kitchen to the breakfast room, sitting at the table. ‘It's not just Maisie, is it?'

She perches on the edge of the table, makes a face. ‘I just didn't fancy going back to be on my own, I suppose. Doing the drive in the dark, deciding what to have for supper. All that stuff. I've just felt edgy all day.'

‘Thinking about Charlie and Ange coming down for half term?'

She stares at him, almost affronted by this direct question.

‘Probably,' she says reluctantly. ‘Well, of course I am,' and at once she realizes that this is at the root of her low spirits. These few weeks with Charlie back in London she's been able to keep in control, to stay busy, to enjoy those jaunts with Benj and suppers with him and Evie. Now, as half term draws closer, the possibility of seeing Charlie again makes it so much more difficult to suppress her foolish hopefulness; the longing to see him.

‘Anyway,' she says. ‘Never mind that. What have you been doing to make you so cheerful?'

‘I've been planning Christmas with Evie,' he says. ‘You know Claude will be here, too? Well, I suggested that they both should stay here rather than us making sorties to and fro. Those stone steps can be lethal in the dark.'

‘And did she agree?'

‘Well, she did. She said she was wondering whether to move over for the winter anyway.'

Jemima feels an odd little pang: jealousy? Surely not. Yet she feels regret that these moments that she and Benj share so easily and casually might not be so readily available.

‘Sounds very sensible,' she says. She can hear her voice sounding the least bit brittle and tries to warm it up. After all, she's very fond of Evie. ‘It must get a bit lonely there all on her own.'

‘Mmm. I told her that it's a big old house for one person so it was fine with me. Anyway, it's her house.'

He grins, almost laughs, and she stares at him, puzzled, almost irritated by his high spirits.

‘So what about Saturday?' she asks, almost grumpily.

‘Well, we'll start off at Alf's and then do a river trip up to Totnes. How about that? Maisie should enjoy that.'

‘What about Otto?' She feels a perverse desire to put obstacles in his way.

Otto lifts his head; he watches them hopefully and his tail beats encouragingly. Benj leans down and strokes him, twiddles his ears.

‘What about him? Doesn't Otto like Totnes?'

He looks up at her indignant face and begins to laugh. ‘Sorry.' He holds up both hands in apology and then gets up. ‘I'm being very tiresome and silly. Sorry.'

And suddenly he puts his arms around her and hugs her, and she holds him tightly for a moment before she draws away from him, pushing back her hair and feeling much calmer, but not quite knowing how to move on. She picks up her tea, half turned away from him, and hears him sit down again.

‘So tell me about Otto,' he says. His voice is still slightly teasing. ‘Does he get seasick? Or don't they allow dogs on the river-boat?'

Suddenly she begins to laugh, infected by whatever joy is bubbling out from him, and relaxing into it.

‘Actually, I don't know,' she admits.

‘Neither do I,' he says, ‘but I know a man who does. Mr Google will have the answers.'

He pulls his laptop towards him and opens it and then stretches out an arm without looking at her.

‘Stay for a bit,' he says. ‘I'll make us some supper if you like.'

She pulls a chair close to his and sits beside him staring at the screen. He puts his arm casually across her shoulder and at last she is able to relax.

Mikey drops his rucksack on the floor and looks around the flat with satisfaction. It's great to be back here again though he almost wishes he could have come alone. Dad's in a bit of a weird mood, sort of hyper and slightly crazy, wanting to talk all the way down on the train about how they're going to get to know Evelyn Drake really well. Stuff like that. Mikey feels a bit uncomfortable about it, like when he was sending those cards Dad got for him: one before he went off to school and another during an exeat weekend. He wanted to write a card, he liked Evie, but it wasn't the same with Dad asking what he was writing, reminding him to tell her about this or that. He couldn't write what he really wanted to because Dad kept coming to peer over his shoulder and say silly things like, ‘Mind you give her my love,' and then laughing, which made him feel embarrassed.

When they arrived at Totnes, Dad said they'd take a taxi to Dartmouth. ‘Blow the expense,' he kept saying, taking a swig from his water bottle. ‘You only live once.' The taxi driver gave Mikey a little friendly glance, like he was understanding how he felt but pitying him, and he hated it.

‘You OK there?' Dad says, appearing in the doorway. ‘I've unpacked the big case so I thought I'd go out and get some fish and chips. Shan't be long.'

Mikey feels disappointed. He wanted to walk around the town to see what it was like without regatta going on. It's still quite early, though. There will be time to go out after they've eaten.

He takes his mobile phone out of his pocket and looks at it. His aunt Liz gave it to him for his birthday.

‘Time you had your own phone,' she said, ‘but look after it and don't take it to school. No nonsense with it, Mikey, or I shall have it back. My number is in already, and Uncle Paul's, so if you ever need us or want to chat we'll be right there.'

It made him very slightly nervous when she said that; like she expected there to be some kind of emergency.

‘You're a big boy now,' she said, ‘and it's time you had a bit of responsibility.'

If he's honest he feels he's got quite enough responsibility with Dad's mood swings, making sure he's taking his happy pills, doing the shopping, but he doesn't say so to Aunt Liz. They're all missing Mum, he knows that, and Dad hasn't been too bad since he got the library job. Except for the last couple of weeks, when he wrote to say that he'd had a few days off: bad headaches, feeling a bit under the weather.

Mikey goes into the kitchen to get the knives and forks so as to lay the table. He wonders how long Dad will be. Sometimes he can be gone for quite a long time, even doing quick simple things. At least when he comes back from these sorties he's usually in a good mood. Mikey gives a great big sigh, like he's heaving off all his worries. He's back in Dartmouth and it's going to be great.

BEN IS THE
first to arrive at Alf's on Saturday morning. He and Jemima arranged it so that he could meet Miranda who is curious about this new friend who works with Jemima.

‘But don't let on about what I told you. You know? Maisie's father leaving them.'