The Way We Were (21 page)

‘Liv,' he said. ‘It's so good to see you again. D'you remember Joe?'

‘Of course I do.' She smiled at the man behind the bar. ‘How's it going?'

Someone called to him as she spoke and he turned away, casting a quick apologetic smile back at Liv over his shoulder. She grimaced at Matt.

‘That was a bit tactless, I suppose,' she said. ‘He's hardly likely to be thrilled with all this, is he?'

‘Joe's OK,' said Matt. ‘He'll be glad to get it sorted. Liam's sold his house and moved upcountry so Joe's been left holding the baby He's suggested we go and look around upstairs first so we can talk about it over lunch. He's keeping the table in the snug for us so we can have a bit of privacy. Would you like a drink?'

‘I'll leave it until we eat.' Liv grinned at him. ‘I have this feeling that you can hardly wait to get up there.'

Matt laughed. ‘Is my enthusiasm showing? Sorry. I'm really looking forward to having your reaction. I will admit that I've got a very good hunch about all this.'

Liv found that she was responding to his personality, enjoying being part of his excitement.

‘Go on then,' she said. ‘Let's have a look at The Place Upstairs or whatever you're going to call it.'

He led the way up the narrow staircase to the first floor; talking as they went along, he threw open doors, going into the office and the storerooms, outlining his ideas.

‘We'd need to gut all this,' he said. ‘Open it right up and have one huge area. Reinstate the fireplace at that end, sofas here and here. What d'you think? Make it more elegant than the bistro atmosphere downstairs. A bar, of course …'

She asked a few questions, examined the rooms carefully, and then he showed her the two big attic rooms on the second floor.

‘These could be converted into a nice little flat,' he told her. ‘You could do what you liked with the conversion if you're drawn to the idea of living over the shop. It would be up to you.' He saw her wary expression and held up his hands placatingly. ‘I know you haven't made up your mind yet, and I'm not trying to rush you, but I wanted you to know that this could be part of the package.'

Liv looked out of the dormer window at the cathedral spire; the sun slanted through at an oblique angle on to the dusty floor and she was seized with a sudden sense of optimism. Matt was watching her with that disconcerting gaze; hands in pockets, head slightly lowered.

She thought: How attractive he is – and gave a little involuntary shiver.

‘You've thought about where you'll rehouse the things that are upstairs?' she asked, playing it cool. ‘The office and store-rooms? The lavatories?'

‘There's plenty of wasted space out beyond the kitchens,' he told her. ‘Though we might need to keep the loos where they are, I think. Can't send the punters through the kitchens, though we might be able to use part of the cellars and put in a new staircase. Lots to talk about, anyway. What d'you think so far?'

‘I think it's very exciting,' she answered – and smiled at the mixture of relief and hope that flared over his bony attractive face.

‘Great,' he said. ‘That's all I need to begin with. Let's go and have some lunch and throw some ideas around.'

She followed him back downstairs and settled in the little snug whilst he went to fetch drinks from the bar. Examining her feelings, Liv realized that she was enjoying being with a sexy man who had no emotional commitments: it was a delightful change. The Place was filling up, and people were laughing and talking; comfortable and at ease in the basket-weave chairs at the round, black-stained beech tables. There was a cheerful, lively buzz and Liv sat back in the corner of the snug, relaxed and happy.

*  *  *

By the time she arrived in Chapel Street that evening, Caroline and Zack were already partying. The barbecue was smouldering satisfactorily, and chairs and several tables were set out ready for supper under the pergola at the bottom of the garden. Caroline led Liv down the garden (‘Thank goodness the path set in time to be walked on!') and Zack, who was sitting with his feet propped on a chair, put down his glass and got up to give his sister a hug.

‘It's thirsty work getting all this ready' he said, grinning.

‘Sure it is,' said Liv. ‘Yes, please. Red for me. So this is the great new construction work, is it?'

Caroline watched them affectionately as they inspected the path and Zack explained his plans; she was looking forward to her party and to meeting up with old naval friends. Zack seemed to have recovered from his mood of self-doubt and was in good form.

‘After all,' she'd said to him, remembering what Liv had told her, ‘both Tom and Tiggy were teachers, weren't they? I know that Tom taught at university level, but even so they must both have been good with young people. I know from my own experience that you really have to love kids to want to spend most of your life with them. I think that says something important about Tiggy and Tom.'

She'd seen that he'd been encouraged by her observation; taking it on board, thinking about it. Ever since, he'd been in high spirits; getting on with unpacking the last of the tea-chests, which she'd begun to find so tiring. He'd rearranged the smallest bedroom, pushing the divan against a wall so that there was room for the cot and the nursing chair, and was planning to make a shelf on which she could change the baby comfortably. There was already a chest of drawers in situ. They were both superstitious about buying too much in advance, though she knew that Zack wanted to do as much as he could before he went back to sea so that she wouldn't be left totally unprepared if the baby were to arrive early.

Sitting in the dapple of the pergola, Caroline tried to imagine life with a baby: it was impossible. In less than three months their lives, hers and Zack's, would be turned upside down and nothing would ever be the same again.

‘Rather you than me,' Liv had said. ‘I'm beginning to think that I'm not mother material. I'm a natural aunt. All the fun and none of the responsibility.'

Watching her with Zack, laughing and pretending to cuff his ear, Caroline didn't believe it for a minute. They came back towards her and she was seized with love for Zack; he looked so sexy and strong that she had to restrain herself from getting up and going to put her arms round him.

The doorbell's peal echoed across the garden. Zack said, ‘Here we go,' and went up the garden and into the house to greet the first of the guests.

1976

It is hot; very hot. It's been weeks now since there has been any rain and the ground is dry and parched. At the end of July the submarine sails and, with Pete gone, the household resumes a more languid routine. They are glad of the cool, slate-floored rooms, and of the shade of the tall rhododendron bushes that encircle the lawn. Even the tent is too stuffy for comfort. Occasionally great bruise-coloured clouds hang on the horizon, and thunder growls and complains in the distance, but no rain falls.

Walking is no longer a pleasure. The open moorland offers no shade and the dogs pant along unwillingly; even on the cliffs the sluggish breeze is hot, bringing no refreshment, and the sea dazzles blindingly beneath the relentless sun. Sheep lie in the shadow of the dry-stone walls and wild ponies crowd beneath sparse thorn trees whose leaves brown and wither in the scorching air.

The children are fretful. Tiggy drives them to Daymer Bay and Trebarwith Strand, and to Truro. They go to Liskeard, where she and Julia buy wrap-around skirts in Indian cotton and cheesecloth shirts in the market, and to Rock where they swim in the warm sea and, afterwards, eat their picnic with damp towels draped tent-like over their heads to prevent their skins from burning; but as the heat intensifies even the van loses its charm and the children grow lethargic and drained of energy.

Nearly a week after Pete has gone, Julia comes downstairs one morning looking so happy that Tiggy stops putting out bowls and spoons and looks at her curiously Julia grins back at her.

‘Guess what?' she says – and when Tiggy shakes her head, bemused, she says, ‘I'm pregnant.'

‘Oh, Julia!' Tiggy runs round the table to embrace her. ‘Oh, that's fantastic. Are you certain?'

‘Well, I've missed two months and you know how regular I am. It's crazy really, I suppose, but we decided we'd like another little girl.'

‘It's wonderful,' says Tiggy warmly. ‘A friend for Claerwen.'

Julia laughs. ‘It'll probably be another boy Don't say anything to anyone yet.'

‘Of course I shan't. Do you feel sick or anything?'

‘I feel wonderful,' Julia says firmly.

A few days later, Angela drops in unannounced on her way to Rock. (‘If only she'd let us know that she was coming,' fumes Julia. ‘But that's the whole point,' answers Tiggy. ‘To catch us unawares.') The twins with unfeigned reluctance take Cat out to see the tent whilst Angela sits down at the kitchen table, accepts coffee, lights a cigarette and offers the packet to Julia.

‘You're looking very well,' she says, looking at her critically.

‘Am I?' asks Julia casually – but she can't prevent the flush that stains her cheeks as she refuses the cigarette. ‘Thanks, but not just now,' she says.

Angela raises her eyebrows; her narrow, sharp eyes amused. ‘Don't tell me you're in pig,' she says lightly She laughs at Julia's vexed expression. ‘Don't worry' she says. ‘I shan't tell. Goodness, Pete is
such
a baby-maker, isn't he?'

It is a coincidence that Cat should come in at that moment, sidling under her mother's arm, so that Angela's gaze should fall upon the child's head as the remark hangs in the air between them all. In the strained silence they can hear Charlie crying in the garden and Julia gets up without a word and goes out.

Cat removes her fingers from her mouth. ‘Charlie's a crybaby,' she says, staring at Tiggy with her cross-eyed, inimical look.

Tiggy experiences the familiar sense of dislike and even fear, as if the child is some kind of threat, and her baby moves suddenly within her as if warning her of danger. Instinctively, she places her hands over her bump and Angela glances at her.

‘Poor you,' she says. ‘You look as if you might pop at any minute. Gosh, you must feel vulnerable. Just between you and me, I know this dit you're putting around, but your baby isn't Pete's too, is it? People are beginning to wonder. You know; the three of you all so cosy here together.'

Tiggy shoves back her chair so sharply that the Turk growls but neither Angela nor Cat flinch: they simply stare at her, coolly calculating what she might do next.

She swallows down her anger, catches at her temper. ‘You're wasting your time, you know,' she says as calmly as she can, and follows Julia into the garden.

Presently Angela comes out with Cat and waves her car keys.

‘Must get on,' she calls, ‘or we'll be late,' and they drive away, leaving Julia still kneeling, comforting the sobbing Charlie whilst the twins keep up their furious duet.

‘She pushed him over …' ‘She pushed him
really
hard, Mummy …' ‘We hate her, don't we, Liv?' ‘Yes, we really hate her … Don't cry, Charlie …'

Julia looks up at Tiggy: all her happiness has fled and her face looks pinched and drawn.

‘It's not true,' Tiggy says urgently but quietly, so that the twins won't hear. ‘It's simply not true. She's just suggested the same thing about me. That my baby is Pete's. She's crazy.'

‘She actually said that?' Julia stares up at her, distracted briefly from her own terrible suspicions.

‘She hates you. And me, for some reason. She's mad. You simply mustn't take any notice of her.'

The twins barge round, talking to Charlie, telling their story again, and Julia stands up with Charlie in her arms. His knees are scraped and bleeding a little and he has earth on his cheek; his mouth turns down at the corners and his eyes look puzzled at the world's unexpected treachery; his innocence smudged for the first time with fear. Julia holds him close and kisses him, and they all go together into the house.

CHAPTER TWELVE

2004

On the afternoon that Pete and Julia were due home from their week in Hampshire, Em drove up to Trescairn, taking with her a cold chicken and a strawberry trifle. She stopped at the Stores in St Breward for milk and bread, butter and cheese and a lettuce, and then drove out of the village, over the moor. It was a cool day with soft grey clouds drifting from the west, the sharp-edged tors smudged with clinging shreds of mist. Even the bright flowers of the rhododendrons crowding the lawn were dimmed and subdued in the vaporous, shifting air.

Em parked the car, got out and passed a critical eye over the garden. She unlocked the front door and carried the bags through the house and into the kitchen. It looked as if Liv had already been in: Em saw that there were flowers in a vase on the kitchen table and a piece of card with the words ‘Welcome home' printed on it.

A faint, very faint, fragrance lingered in the air, and Em saw a twig of the yellow azalea – the very last of the
luteum
– amongst the blooms in the vase on the table. She was reminded again of the scene with Tiggy, here on this very spot, and she instinctively glanced up at the dresser, wondering if she might see the little bronze still standing where Tiggy had placed him twenty-eight years before. Of course, he wasn't there: Em smiled at her foolishness.