Summer on the River (31 page)

‘Even so,' argues Ange, under cover of the conversation going on amongst the others, ‘I don't think Ben should have them. I'll be honest with you, Evie. Even if the cartoons were done by his great-great-grandfather I still think they should hang in the main rooms. They belong to the family. To Charlie as well as Ben.'

‘Actually,' answers Evie judicially, ‘there's much truth in that statement. Though I wasn't going to mention it to you.'

Ange experiences a surge of triumph. At last Evie is admitting the truth.

‘I think it would be unwise to hide anything,' she says. ‘It would be a mistake for Ben to get the wrong idea.'

‘Well, if you say so.' Evie looks regretful. ‘But I'd like you to keep this to yourself, Ange. TDF found some papers that imply that Ben's great-great-grandfather was also Charlie's great-great-grandfather. He was having an affair with his sister-in-law. That means that Charles and George were brothers, not cousins, and, George being the elder, under the law of entail the whole lot should have come down on his side. Charles was, in fact, illegitimate. The papers are quite clear. TDF was horrified but decided to say nothing at the time, though he hoped some kind of restitution might be made.'

Ange is seized with alarm and incredulity. Evie would hardly make up such things but how can they possibly be true? ‘What nonsense,' she says angrily. ‘What are these papers?'

‘They were hidden in the back of the cartoons. I've still got them, of course, if you'd like to see them. I have no idea what could be made out of them. Worth a court case, d'you think? TDF decided – understandably since Charlie is his son and heir – to let sleeping dogs lie. I'm not sure Ben would agree with him. The decision is mine.'

Ange stares at Evie. Never has she disliked anyone so much.

‘I don't believe you,' she says without conviction.

Evie laughs. ‘Yes, you do. I can show you the papers but I rather hoped I wouldn't have to. I didn't want Charlie to know.'

‘No,' says Ange quickly. ‘No, he mustn't know.' She has a horrid vision of Charlie wanting to examine these papers, to take them seriously, and somehow make amends to Ben. ‘Though,' she adds, ‘I imagine they'd probably amount to nothing.'

‘TDF was convinced they were truthful accounts,' says Evie quietly. ‘I've decided not to tell Ben but it's why I am very happy to let him use the house, though it's nothing in terms of what he would have had if his great-grandfather had inherited.'

Ange is speechless. She wants to challenge Evie, to demand to see the evidence, but supposing it is all true? She feels frustrated, frightened. She stares at Charlie, who is talking to Miranda, at Ben and Jemima sitting side by side, and more and more she feels that she is the spectator at some play being staged for her benefit though she can't put her finger on the cause of her uneasiness.

‘It's up to you, Ange,' Evie is murmuring. ‘Any more silly fuss about Ben or the cartoons and I might show Charlie the papers. I promise you they make interesting reading and you're very hot on the laws of inheritance, aren't you, Ange?'

Ange pushes back her chair. ‘I've got shopping to do,' she says. ‘I'll see you later.'

She shakes her head at Charlie as if to say, ‘Stay where you are. Leave me alone,' and stomps out into the sunshine.

Claude sees her go with relief. He's watched the whole thing and he knows, he just knows, that Evie is telling Ange about the papers. He can barely believe it. It's rather like the way Evie burst out with all her private feelings to Jemima at that very first meeting.

Never, he tells himself irritably, never will he understand women. All the conversations about secrecy and silence, the anxiety about letting Charlie or Ben know, and now here she is telling it all to Ange in the middle of bloody Alf's.

He watches anxiously, catching a few words here and there, seeing Ange's expressions of anger, disbelief, fear, and Evie's quiet relentlessness, and he feels quite weak with the enormity of it all.

Surely, he argues with himself, it cannot be right to hand Ange such weapons? She could destroy them all.

But at the same time, says a small voice, she would destroy herself.

Ange is pushing back her chair, getting up, giving a brief shake of the head to Charlie, and then she disappears. Evie glances up, catches Claude's eye and gives him a smile of pure mischief, and he stares back, trying to control his irritation.

Jemima watches Ange go and is immediately flooded with relief. Though it might appear that she is relaxed, enjoying herself, her gut is knotted with tension. She moves a little way away from Ben and bends down to talk to Maisie, who is under the table with Otto. She can't bring herself to look at Charlie; not quite yet. She waits for the moment, treasuring it, and then sits up straight again. He turns to look at her and she meets his eyes and connects with him again – and everything is good, so good – and suddenly she bursts out laughing as all the stress and anxiety is finally released. Benj and Charlie join in, and then Evie and finally Claude, until they are all in fits of silly laughter, and the sight of Miranda's puzzled, almost indignant face sets Jemima off again until she is nearly crying.

Evie sees Claude's irritation, she sees Jemima and Charlie reconnect, and she sees the expression of utter relief on Ben's face. She simply can't stop laughing: the joy of telling Ange has been like a shot of adrenalin. Her instincts tell her that Ange will never spill the beans, she has too much to lose – and anyway, the moment was just so perfect. The sense of power was extraordinary and dear old Claude's face an absolute picture: outrage, bafflement, utter disapproval. At the mere thought of it she bursts out laughing again and Jemima joins in with her. For a moment they are totally connected: two women who have relied on their wits and their instincts to protect people they love.

For a moment Evie forgets Miranda and the child under the table. She looks at these four beloved people, remembers how they gathered on the terrace in the garden at regatta, and raises her coffee cup to them with a smile as if she is toasting them – and they lift their cups in response.

JASON IS SLEEPING
late. Mikey creeps in several times to look at him but doesn't want to wake him. He stands at the door uncertainly, fingering the mobile phone in his pocket, thinking about what Aunt Liz has said.

‘I'll come down,' she said at once. ‘I'll get up early and drive down. Is it his depression getting worse, do you think, Mikey?'

‘I don't know,' he answered miserably. ‘I think he's drinking a bit. Mum always said he shouldn't because it was like poison for him, but I'm afraid of asking him.'

‘I had no idea about this,' she said. ‘Look, Mikey, I'll come down this evening,' but he'd been anxious about that.

‘It's best to let him sleep now,' he told her. ‘He's taken his medication and now he'll just crash. But why shall I say you're coming down, Aunt Liz? He'll think it's a bit odd, won't he? I don't want to say that I phoned you.'

‘No, no, don't do that. Tell him I've got to get the flat with a letting agent and I want to ask around locally to see who might be the best. If you're absolutely sure you're OK I'll get away early and be with you before lunch and I'll text when I leave so you'll have some idea. Jason can move into the other bed in your room and I'll stay overnight and then we'll all drive back together. I'll bring sheets and some food. Don't worry, Mikey, we'll get it sorted. You can stay the extra night here instead of there.'

Part of him is so relieved he feels quite weak but part of him is bracing up ready to tell Dad what's happening. Will he fuss about going back with Aunt Liz? He might not want to because it means losing two days of their holiday. Mikey feels sad about that but not sad enough to stay on with Dad on his own. He thinks anxiously about what might happen in Bristol between getting home and going back to school.

He can't get out of his head what Dad said about Evelyn Drake – or how he looked when he said he wanted to break her neck. It's always frightened him when Dad goes off on one but this was worse: not just the usual rage and anger and shouting but a kind of creepy madness.

He wishes Mum was here to take control. Before, it was like she and he were the adults and Dad was their child. Even when he was quite small she persuaded him to play this game, like they were taking care of Dad together.

‘He's very sensitive,' she'd say. ‘He feels things more than other people. We have to look after him, don't we?'

Sometimes Mikey didn't want to play the game, like when he had to go with Dad to post a letter or buy the newspaper.

‘Take Mikey with you,' Mum would say, and Dad would look sullen, cross, as if he were being thwarted in some way. ‘Go on, Mikey,' she'd tell him, nice and bright and jolly, as if she couldn't see Dad's expression. ‘Go with Dad.'

She'd nod at him, make the little face that said:
Look after him
, and he'd take Dad's hand, smiling up at him as if it were fun, though fear fluttered in his insides. He had no idea why he was needed, back then, to shadow his father but now he's beginning to guess.

Mikey peers in again through the half-open bedroom door and sees that Jason is awake, lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling: his face is closed and grim, and Mikey's heart sinks. He creeps away, makes some coffee, and carries it upstairs.

‘I've made you some coffee, Dad,' he says. He keeps his voice cheerful, like there's nothing wrong, and puts the mug beside the bed on the little table. ‘Aunt Liz phoned. She's coming down later today.'

Jason frowns as if he can't quite understand what Mikey is saying, and turns his head slowly on the pillow rather as if the movement hurts him. His pale eyes are cold, expressionless; scary.

‘What d'you mean?'

Mikey stays by the door; he wishes that Aunt Liz were here already.

‘It's something to do with letting the flat. She needs to come down and see someone about it. That's what she said.'

He decides not to mention the bit about them all going back together. Aunt Liz can deal with that. His father sits up slowly, still frowning, and picks up the mug.

‘Do you want some toast?' Mikey asks. ‘Or cornflakes?'

Jason shakes his head and Mikey slips away, glancing at his watch. With any luck Aunt Liz will be here soon.

By the time she arrives Jason is showered and dressed and ready for action. He's determined to be on good form for Liz but he still feels shaky and he has to be careful. She doesn't need to know, for instance, that he's lost his job: none of her business. It's a damned nuisance that she's here but, after all, it is her flat. Something is buzzing about at the back of his mind, something he needs to do, and he tries to remember what it is. This medication is doing his head in, that's the real trouble, and he simply has to stay in control. The bottles are hidden away in his rucksack but it's something else that's nagging away at him. Suddenly he remembers: Evelyn Drake, and his plan to get Mikey acquainted with her; to soften her up. He recalls meeting her by the Boat Float; he'd been angry about losing his job and probably said a few things he might regret. He curses inwardly: and now there's this plan to go back with Liz tomorrow which Mikey seems quite keen to do. Jason feels that things are slipping out of his control. The familiar sensations of panic and disablement edge in and he begins to need a bit of a boost: a little sip from his water bottle.

Liz is watching him, assessing him, and he smiles at her; not too cheerful, not too bright. He's a grieving widower and he's struggling a bit; that's perfectly reasonable. Helena told Liz about the depression way back when he was having a few difficulties holding down a job and she's always sympathetic, always concerned. Especially now, with Helena gone … Helena gone. Momentarily he's overwhelmed with terrible grief, just can't control it, and Liz sees his expression and touches his arm.

‘It's hell, isn't it, Jay?' she says – and just for a minute it might be Helena standing there and he longs for Liz to put her arms round him as Helena would have done, to hold him, and stroke his hair and say, ‘It'll be OK, Jay-bird.'

Instead she grips his arm for a minute, smiles at Mikey and says, ‘Let's have tea. I've brought some cake with me.'

Jason pulls himself together, nods, but he has an idea. It's important that he doesn't let the Evelyn Drake plan slip. It's crucial.

‘By the way,' he says to Mikey, very calm, very easy, ‘you must be sure to pop round and say goodbye to Evie before we go. I told her that we'd be seeing her again so it would be the polite thing to do.'

Mikey looks surprised, gives a quick glance at his aunt Liz, who shrugs, slightly puzzled but unconcerned, as if it's none of her business.

‘OK,' he says, rather warily. ‘Like when?'

‘After tea? You could phone her.'

Jason can only just control the panic, the need to make sure Mikey does what he's told. Evelyn Drake must be kept on side.

‘OK,' Mikey says. ‘I'll phone her after tea.'

Jason takes a deep breath, smiles at him. ‘Good,' he says. ‘Good boy. Need the loo, shan't be a sec.'

He slips into the bedroom, hauls the rucksack out of the wardrobe and takes a deep long swig from the water bottle. He dashes into the bathroom, flushes the lavatory, comes out again and draws another deep breath before he goes downstairs.

ANGE TURNS UP
at the boathouse just before supper when Ben, Charlie and Claude are having a farewell drink in the pub.

‘I wanted to be clear about things,' she says, coming in and putting her bag down on the table. ‘I've been thinking about what you said, Evie. I shan't tell Charlie but I'd like to see those papers.'