Summer on the River (29 page)

Hanging on the wall behind the desk are the cartoons. She does a quick count – and yes, there are seven of them. Evie must have given them to Ben and he's hung them up here in his room where nobody else will ever see them.

Ange is seized with fury. This, like nothing else, confirms Ben's growing sense of entitlement and Evie's partisanship. She hurries out and down the stairs, and then stands indecisively before she makes the second descent. Her instinct was to rush down to Charlie, to confront him with this proof of her fears, but suddenly she hesitates. Charlie is still in an odd mood and she is uncharacteristically reluctant to insist that he must take some action. She knows that he will shrug it off; say that it is unimportant. Instead she decides that she will confront Ben; ask him why he has appropriated the cartoons; or maybe she will ask Evie.

She descends the stairs and goes into the kitchen to make some tea.

The shadows are beginning to gather; lights glimmer out on the choppy water where the tide is running out, turning the boats at their moorings as if it would drag them all out towards the darkening sea.

Claude pours them each a drink whilst Evie is lighting the lamps and candles, though she resists drawing the curtains and pulling down the pretty blinds. She hates the dying of the light and is so grateful to have Claude with her, his bulky presence a defence against her fears and loneliness. Jason's confrontation has unnerved her. She's explained the little history to Claude, who is annoyed by Jason's behaviour and clearly anxious for her.

‘You could report him for harassment,' he said, as they walked home together. ‘The man's seriously unhinged. I think he'd been drinking.'

‘I have to think about Mikey,' she said. ‘I'm beginning to wonder if he should be on his own with Jason, but he has an aunt and uncle who must have seen that Jason is not well.'

‘People like Jason can be very clever,' Claude said. ‘Especially with his bereavement to sidetrack everyone. Did you see how his hands were shaking? It's not fair to the boy.'

‘Let me think about it,' Evie said. ‘I can't risk Jason imagining that Mikey and I are conspiring against him.'

She feels frightened, though; she remembers Jason's confrontational behaviour in the Royal Castle when she had tea with him and Mikey – and now this. But what should she do? With difficulty she pushes it to the back of her mind and changes the subject.

‘Am I imagining it,' she asks Claude, ‘or is there a slight change in our Ange? Do I detect the least touch of indecisiveness? And why?'

‘It will be a miracle,' says Claude, putting Evie's glass on the low table in front of the sofa, ‘if Charlie has managed to disguise the fact that he's fallen madly in love. Even Ange might pick up on it, though she probably won't guess what it is that's happened to him.'

‘Do you find Charlie changed?' She sits down and curls her feet under her. ‘He was very sweet with me, but of course he knows that I know. He's delighted that we're moving over to the house for Christmas.'

She's rather touched by Charlie's relief.

‘I think it's a brilliant idea,' he said when she told him. ‘And great for old Benj. I think he gets a bit lonely all on his own in the evenings. It's the obvious answer that you should all be together, and especially for Christmas. I only wish I could be here too.'

Then Ange came into the room and he talked about Christmas in London, what the girls were doing, but before the moment passed she asked him if he'd be coming down for his usual pre-Christmas visit.

‘I hope you'll manage it,' she said, smiling at him, making certain Ange heard. ‘Of course, Claude and I will have moved over by then but you'll be happy up in the attic room, won't you? Thank goodness TDF put in that shower and loo up there. Of course,' she added, glancing at Ange, still smiling, ‘if you all decided to come you could use the boathouse. That would be lovely.'

Ange quickly disclaimed: she couldn't possibly get away so close up to Christmas – so much to do, the girls had so many invitations – but Charlie accepted just as quickly on his own behalf.

‘Must do the annual Christmas present exchange,' he said cheerfully. ‘It's a tradition, isn't it? Just two nights. Of course I shall come.' And he gave Evie a private, grateful glance.

Now, Claude throws the cushion on to the floor and sits down at the other end of the sofa. ‘I'm sure he's pleased. I think he worries about you going up and down the steps in the dark. Poor old lad. I wouldn't be in his shoes for anything.'

Evie feels a little clutch of sadness when he says this: she loves Charlie so much and she grieves for him.

‘He and Jemima must come to terms with it,' she says, ‘one way or another. Lots of people fall in love and never tell. At least Jemima knows. They simply have to settle for those occasional moments of joy, like regatta. He's coming just before Christmas as usual. We must try to see that they have another moment then.'

‘And you think that's wise?' Claude asks. ‘It won't put too much strain on them? To be together without … you know?'

She smiles at him. ‘It sounds odd, doesn't it, but if they can then these times might be like oases that they can draw strength from – or, of course, it might simply fade.'

‘But you don't believe that?'

Evie shakes her head. ‘How can I tell? It's not like some passing physical attraction. It's much more important, much more special. If they can deal with it without letting it destroy them it could be infinitely precious to them.'

‘If you say so. But you think Ange might have guessed that something's up?'

‘I'm just saying that she's a little less aggressive; a little more careful with Charlie. They came down to make sure Ben doesn't feel too secure, to assert their rights, but without the girls it isn't quite so effective and she's bored already. And, anyway, Ben has a new strength, which Ange can't possibly guess at. I just hope I've done the right thing. It's not real restitution – after all, the house will still go to Charlie and his descendants – but the crucial thing is that Ben will have the right to live there for all his life if he wants to.'

‘And meanwhile you can use it just as TDF hoped you would? This won't make you feel differently about that?'

She shakes her head. ‘Not at all. Well, it's perfect for me, isn't it? I'm not sure I would want to live in it alone and we can split the bills. It will be rather nice to have someone around during those drear winter months. Oh, I can see that there might be problems but nothing is perfect. What d'you think, Claude? Am I crazy?'

She watches him, anxious for his approval.

‘It's certainly unusual,' he says at last, ‘and some people would say that it might be fraught with difficulties, but knowing you and Ben as well as I do I think it's a very good arrangement. You'll get on each other's nerves sometimes but there's enough space to get away from each other, and anyway that's no different from ordinary family life. I'm lucky to have an annexe next door to my family but I am very aware that I need to respect their privacy and I have a horror about just walking in, or disturbing them at the wrong moment and seeing their faces drop. So now I tend to wait to be invited, or until they come round to see me, which rather takes the point off being close. In your case I think the good things outweigh the disadvantages. If it works you could rent out the boathouse next year as a winter let.'

‘It just feels right,' Evie says, reassured by his reply. ‘Christmas will be a good trial run.'

‘So when do you plan to move over?'

Evie thinks about it. Now that Claude is with her she is in no particular hurry.

‘Let's play it by ear,' she says at last. ‘We'll give Ben a week or two to get over Charlie and Ange.'

‘And you're not going to tell Charlie about this new plan about leaving the house in trust to Ben?'

‘Not yet, though actually I think he'd welcome it. He'd know that the house was coming back to him at some point and I think he's fond enough of Ben to be pleased for him. I can't decide whether Ange will be content with knowing that her children will inherit it or would just make all our lives a misery. What do you think?'

He leans back in the corner of the sofa and gazes out at the reflections that jitter and tremble on the inky water.

‘It would get it out into the open,' he says at last. ‘It'll be tough for Ben living with her constant warfare and unable to speak out. After all, why not? It's your house. You know the truth about the inheritance so you aren't doing anything unfair. In fact, Charlie and Ange are lucky to be getting it at all. I agree it's a good way to deal with a very unsatisfactory situation but it might be sensible to be upfront about your will for Ben's sake.'

Evie takes a deep breath; in her heart she knows that Claude is right. Ben should be able to live in the house without the pressures that Ange will bring to bear on him. Evie can remember only too well, from her own experience of living in the Merchant's House with TDF, Ange's relentless campaign to make her feel like an outsider.

Now, thanks to TDF, she no longer feels like an outsider; legally the house is hers and she can go part-way in making the restitution TDF wanted without causing a family rift. Yet why should Ben have to put up with this ongoing campaign of Ange's if it isn't necessary?

‘I'll think about it,' she promises. ‘I think you're right and it would be better to have it out in the open. I just need the right moment to tell them.'

‘Good,' Claude says. ‘I'll drink to that and to Christmas in the Merchant's House,' and he raises his glass to her.

Mikey watches his father across the supper table. It's fish and chips again.

‘Are you OK, Dad?' he asks.

Ever since Mikey saw him with Evie, Dad's been behaving very strangely. He refused to let Mikey go to say hello to Evie, dragged him into a little café for something to eat, and then they went back to the flat where Dad flung himself down on the sofa and dropped into a heavy sleep as suddenly as if he were falling off a cliff.

Mikey sat and watched him, feeling miserable and frightened. He missed his mum and wished he had someone to talk to; to share the responsibility of his father. He thought about Aunt Liz. Mum was her sister so she's gutted, too, and it seems unfair to worry her about Dad so Mikey always pretends that things are fine when he's with Aunt Liz, and somehow Dad's always on his best behaviour when she's around. Even so, he thought he might say something; tell her about these very odd moods. After all, Mum must have told her a bit about Dad's depression and the tablets he has to take. It's not a secret.

Mikey slipped out into the kitchen, keeping one eye on his father, and dug his mobile phone out of his pocket. Still watching, he sent a text to Aunt Liz.

Worried about Dad. Think he's ill.

He's still waiting for a reply though he's switched his mobile to silent in case Dad asks who the message is from or asks to see it. Ever since he came back from getting the fish and chips he's been a bit hyper and his breath smells of something strong. Mikey wonders if he's been into the pub for a drink.

‘I'm fine,' he says now, staring at Mikey with oddly bright eyes, as if he's challenging him; daring him to question the fact. ‘Why shouldn't I be?'

Mikey suddenly feels a little shot of anger thrill through him: it's not fair that he has to be so careful all the time in case Dad is upset. Why should he be the one always hiding his own sadness and pain?

‘It's just you looked a bit odd on the Boat Float with Evie and that man,' he says. ‘Right at the end I thought you were going to hit her.'

The oddest expression creeps over his father's face: a look compounded of amusement, complacency and hatred.

‘So what?' he asks. ‘She deserves it. Evelyn Drake ruined my mother's life and mine. Time she paid for it.'

Mikey's stomach curdles with fear; the fish and chips sit like a stone in his gut. Even so, he won't back down or try to soothe his father into a calmer state of mind. He's tired of doing that; he's had enough.

‘I like her,' he says.

His father sneers at him. ‘So did your grandfather. That was the trouble. Your grandfather liked her way too much. And she liked him.'

Mikey puts down his knife and fork and folds his hands tightly together under the table as if he is giving himself courage: bracing himself. He understands what Dad is saying – he's not a child, not a little boy – but even so, the words are a shock. It's as if Dad isn't really seeing him any more as Mikey but as another adult and he needs to prepare himself for what else he might tell him.

‘It broke my mother's heart,' Dad is saying, ‘but he didn't care and neither did she. He helped her with her research, she took everything he had to give and then she walked away.'

He begins to chuckle – a horrid sound that grates along Mikey's nerves – and his eyes look elsewhere as if he is seeing visions unknown to Mikey.

‘This afternoon I would have liked to break her neck and chuck her in the water,' he says almost conversationally, ‘but I'm going to give her the chance to make up for it.'

‘How do you mean?' Mikey manages to keep his voice quiet and calm, even interested.

Dad glances at him as if he's surprised he needs to ask.

‘Money, of course. She owes me. She broke my mother's heart, fleeced my father and cheated me out of a first-class education. Well, it's my turn now.'

His face changes again; he looks surly and tired and bleak. Mikey recognizes the look.

He draws a deep breath so that his voice will be steady and as he does so he feels his mobile vibrate in his pocket. He shoves his hand in quickly as if to muzzle it.

‘Have you taken your tablets, Dad?' he asks gently but cheerfully, too, just like there's nothing wrong. ‘How about some coffee?'