Summer on the River (27 page)

He drives down through Warfleet, into Southtown.

‘Good,' he says. ‘Benj has opened the garage door.'

Without thinking he reverses the car into the garage, as he always does when he comes down alone, and Ange doesn't protest. He only thinks of this once he's switched the engine off but the usual feelings of guilt, the need to apologize, are somehow absent.

‘I'll bring the stuff in,' he says. ‘Why don't you go and see if Benj has got the kettle on?'

He pulls out the holdalls and follows her in just as Benj comes out of the breakfast room.

‘Hi,' he says. ‘You made great time.'

Charlie notices that Benj is looking good: tanned and fit, and with a new confidence that somehow defines him more clearly. They exchange their usual hug and Benj smiles at Ange and asks her if she'd like some tea.

‘Yes,' Ange says. ‘Thanks, I'd like a cup of tea.'

And if Benj notices that she's not taking command as she usually does, he doesn't make any comment once she's gone upstairs; he merely raises his eyebrows at Charlie – who shrugs noncommittally.

‘Tea would be good,' he says. ‘So what's new?'

‘Not much,' Benj says. ‘I brought Claude back with me from a photo-shoot near Salisbury a few days ago, so he's with Evie. I'm sorry the girls couldn't make it.'

‘Well, you know what it's like. They got this really good invite and they'd have just been slouching around and whingeing if we'd made them come with us.'

Benj laughs. ‘Oh, yes. I know what it's like. They grow up so quick. One moment you're the centre of their little worlds and the next minute you're an embarrassment. At least Laura's over that now.'

‘How is she?'

‘She's good. She was down a few weeks ago before she went off on this chalet job in Adelboden.'

‘Great. How's the brochure going?'

‘That's good, too.'

Charlie watches him as he makes the tea, trying to decide what it is about old Benj that is different.

‘Has the flat sold?' he asks. ‘Any change there?'

‘No to both of those,' says Benj, ‘though there's lots of interest.' He doesn't seem too worried about it. ‘You'll have to wait a little longer for your money, I'm afraid.'

‘Oh, I didn't mean that. You know I didn't. I just wondered … You know …'

‘Kirsty is very settled. We talk quite amicably. She's moved on.'

‘And you?'

‘Oh, I'm moving on, too.'

Not with Jemima, I hope, Charlie wants to say – but, of course, he can't. He wants to ask how she is, whether she has sent him a message, but Ange is coming down the stairs so he takes his mug of tea and goes to stare out of the window into the garden.

Behind him, Benj is offering Ange tea, saying that he was looking forward to seeing the girls. It's clear that Ange feels embarrassed about their absence. This is the second time she's said she's bringing other people who never actually materialize. Nevertheless, she still uses that slightly curt voice she adopts with Ben – as if he is some kind of tiresome dependant – though he takes it all in his stride.

‘Laura went through a phase like that,' he says. ‘We're all expecting it but it hurts a bit, doesn't it? She's coming down to Dartmouth for the New Year, which is fantastic. I very slightly hoped for Christmas but she'll be working.'

‘I'll take this up,' Ange says, clearly uninterested in Laura's plans, ‘and drink it while I'm unpacking.'

When she's gone, Benj looks at Charlie thoughtfully.

‘Let's take ours up into the garden,' he suggests. ‘It's still warm enough on an afternoon like this. And then I can tell you all the things you really want to hear about.'

How quiet the town is: the benches and shelters are empty and there is very little movement on the river. Claude stands with his hands in his pockets remembering regatta: the bump and grind of the music, the smell of frying, the children's voices. Today there is no bait for sale; the booths are closed. In the Royal Avenue Gardens bright leaves, scarlet and gold, crisp into old age in the slanting autumn sunshine.

He is glad to be back in Dartmouth, to be part of this odd little family group again. As he begins to stroll along the Embankment he is conscious of a sense of anticipation – and also apprehension – at the prospect of the arrival of Charlie and Ange. Claude reviews the new situation: Evie's plan to spend the winters at the Merchant House. He sees at once that this is a good idea.

‘I couldn't bear to give the boathouse up,' she told him not long after he arrived. ‘It's so glorious here in the summer. But I am beginning to rather dread the long winter afternoons and evenings. It seems a good compromise.'

And then she showed him TDF's letter.

‘Crazy,' he said. ‘Quite crazy! You might never have found it.'

‘But he was right,' she said. ‘Every time the Merchant's House was mentioned I'd completely stonewall it. It was Charlie's and that was an end of it. Now I feel differently. And I think he knew that one day I'd reframe the cartoons and find the letter. He was right about that, too, and the timing was perfect. It's given me courage.'

Claude snorts to himself. He hasn't got a lot of time for this mystical kind of stuff; on the other hand the timing
is
good. Ben is settled in the house, Evie can split her time between the two, and TDF's seal of approval has certainly given her confidence: enough confidence to leave the house in trust to Ben.

‘I've changed my will,' she said. ‘The house is left in trust to Ben for his lifetime and then reverts back to Charlie or his descendants. What d'you think?'

Claude thought it was an excellent plan, though he was obliged to hide a tiny flicker of disappointment that she had sorted it all out so thoroughly without consulting him. He was just the least bit hurt but then she went on to tell him how glad she was that he was here with her for Christmas.

‘What d'you think of the idea that we should spend Christmas across the road?' she asked. ‘I know Ben thinks it's cut and dried and he's thrilled about it, but do you think it's a good plan?'

And then they discussed it all, and she told him her anxieties about whether Ben was really comfortable about her spending the winter there, and he was soon back in the thick of it and feeling a part of it all again.

‘I mean,' she said, ‘it might be a bit inhibiting, mightn't it? Having me there? Supposing he wants to bring someone back?'

And then they began to laugh about the possible embarrassment inherent in such a situation and he suddenly asked after Jemima as if she might be relevant to that possibility.

‘They are just such good friends,' Evie said contentedly. ‘It's great to see them together and I'm so glad. I just wonder, though, what might happen with Charlie down again for half term.'

Remembering, Claude feels again the clutch of apprehension. What indeed?

‘Has there been any contact?' he asked Evie.

She shook her head. ‘As far as Ben knows, none at all. And I am certain that Jemima would have told him if there had been. Like I said, they are very close.'

‘Have you seen her?'

‘Oh, yes. Several times. She comes in sometimes after work or on a Saturday morning and we have long chats. I think she misses her sister. Or half-sister, rather. She used to live up on the moor but when her husband retired from the navy he bought a sailing school in Falmouth and then Jemima's sister sold up the house and moved down to be with him. Jemima usually spends her summer and Christmas holidays with them.'

‘And she never mentions Charlie?'

‘Only very occasionally. Sometimes it seems as if she's going to and then she draws back. She knows that I understand how she feels and I think it's almost enough for her. Talking doesn't always help.'

He felt a bit sceptical about that, remembering the full, frank exchange Evie and Jemima had on their first meeting, but then he realized that it was probably true. Evie was not a chattering, gossiping kind of person and, having established such a close relationship with Jemima, he could see that a continual raking up of the situation between her and Charlie would be fruitless.

‘But she knows he's down this week?'

Evie nodded. ‘Oh, yes. She knows. Actually, I asked her if she was going to stay clear since Ange is with him, but she smiled and said she'd take her chance. After all, she's here in the town most days. She can't simply take time off and disappear. Why should she?'

Claude feels another twinge of apprehension: he's not a man who enjoys drama and he doesn't want to see either Charlie or Jemima hurt. He tries to comfort himself with the thought that it all might have been regatta madness, that were they to see each other again all that strong magic that surrounded them during that week would have disappeared.

He said as much to Evie and she smiled at him: it was a half-pitying, disbelieving kind of smile.

‘You think so?' she asked.

He sighed irritably, feeling frustrated and helpless, but he didn't ask her what she meant. He doesn't want to know. Sometimes the practicality of women, their realism, frightens him to death. And then she told him about Mikey Dean, about his mother dying, and how she'd worked with his grandfather Russell. Mikey is down with his father for half term and has phoned to ask if he could come and see her.

‘And you want me to make myself scarce?' Claude asked.

She hesitated for a moment. ‘Just this first time,' she said at last. ‘Do you mind? Just till we know each other a little better. Give us an hour and if he's still here when you get back, well, that's fine.'

Claude walks through the gardens towards the town, glancing at his watch. Charlie and Ange will be on their way; they might even now be here.

‘It's epic,' Mikey says.

He stands on the balcony, his eyes wide with amazement and delight, whilst Evie watches him. He loves this place. He loves the town, though now there is none of the bustle and excitement of regatta. But he loves the peaceful out-of-season vibe, too, the ever-present movement of the river, the boats rocking at their moorings. He utterly loves all of it. Briefly, he can take a step away from his anxieties about Dad, the gnawing sense of responsibility for him, his own grief and longing for Mum that colours everything he thinks and does: here all this is somehow contained. And Evie, though he doesn't understand why, is a part of it.

‘I'm glad you approve,' she says. ‘What do you like to drink, Mikey? Tea? Coffee? Elderflower cordial?'

‘I drink tea,' he says, slightly self-consciously. She makes him feel grown-up; adult. A plate of cakes is already set on the little table on the balcony and now Evie goes back inside to make the tea. He wanders after her, looking around the huge, light-filled space, feeling surprisingly at ease. She doesn't fuss him or make him feel like a visitor; it's as if she's always known that one day he'd come strolling in.

‘Be nice,' Dad said to him, before he set off. ‘Talk about your grandfather and her books. Butter her up.'

Mikey felt surprisingly cross by that remark; as if he was going under false pretences.

‘Why would I do that?' he asked, for once not bothering about whether he upset his father or not.

Dad just smiled; a kind of knowing, silly smile that made Mikey even more cross.

‘Keep her sweet, that's all,' his father advised. ‘You'll find out why soon enough.'

It made him feel uncomfortable, ill-at-ease to begin with, but Evie put it right. Now, as they sit at the little table on the balcony, she talks about Dartmouth, about his grandfather, how they worked together. He tells her a bit about school: the Carol Concert, which is to be televised; about Aunt Liz and Uncle Paul and his cousins who live in Taunton. And all the while he's watching the green-black water flowing just feet away, Kingswear on the hill opposite basking in the last of the sunshine, a big white yacht coming in under sail.

‘It's awesome,' he tells her – and she smiles at him, offers him another cake and, for the first time since Mum died, he is aware of a sense of absolute peace and he is able to relax and feel safe.

IT WAS A
mistake to come, thinks Charlie the next morning, wandering with Ange into the town, pausing while she glances into shop and gallery windows. He is only half listening as she talks about Benj.

‘He's definitely settled in,' she's saying, rather irritably, ‘and now he's got this new work it'll make him feel even more secure.'

Charlie glances around the Boat Float, half longing to see Jemima, half dreading it. What would they say to each other? How would she look? He tries to imagine introducing her to Ange and his gut seems to shrink.

‘What do you usually do when you're down?' Ange asks him, as they pause on the corner of Spithead, the familiar slightly discontented frown creasing her forehead.

It's rather difficult to answer this question in a way that will satisfy her: lazing about, breakfast in Alf's, going for a pint with Claude, supper with Evie. None of these things will be remotely attractive to Ange.

‘Remember, I only ever come for a couple of nights,' he answers evasively, ‘so there's not much time really. It was a pity you arranged to come for the whole week, wasn't it?'

Ange looks disconcerted and he knows exactly what she's thinking. At the time it seemed like a good plan to bring the girls and establish their rights in the Merchant's House, make Benj feel like a lodger, but now it's a rather different scene: a whole week with very little to do, amongst people she doesn't like much. She's been hoist with her own petard and he isn't feeling particularly sympathetic.

‘I suppose we don't have to stay the whole week,' she says thoughtfully. ‘We could go down and see Mummy for a few days.'