Honor put the letter down with trembling hands. This was serious. This was life-changing. This was commitment. And she still wasn’t any clearer about what she thought. She looked carefully through the details. The house would be perfect. It had light and airy reception rooms, a big kitchen with a conservatory off it, four bedrooms, a study for Johnny, a pretty garden. A family house…
She tried to imagine what their life would be like. The whole atmosphere of the household would change with a male presence. There would be rugby on Sky, the phone ringing; lagers in the fridge, razors in the bathroom. The girly haven that was her bedroom would be invaded: the oyster-pink walls, the blue chintz curtains with the huge cabbage roses, the piles of French embroidered pillows, the scent bottles and silver-backed brush set would not sit so easily with a man in her bed, and Honor resented
the idea that the place that was so resolutely hers would have to be shared.
Not just her bedroom, in fact, but her whole life. At the moment, she could please herself most of the time. She could make do with chicken nuggets for supper if she couldn’t be bothered to cook once Ted had gone to bed. If Johnny moved in, meals would be dictated by when he got back from work, and she couldn’t fob him off with nursery food. But on the plus side, it would be nice to have company. She’d enjoyed having supper with him recently – it made it worth the effort of cooking.
And there was no doubt that life would be easier in many ways. Financially, for a start. What a relief it would be not to have a slight sense of panic at the prospect of new school shoes
and
football boots in the same month. And it would be nice to have a proper social life again. Honor kept herself to herself, because she didn’t always enjoy being the only single female. But with a partner things were different. Though Honor wasn’t sure she wanted to be drawn into the social circles that Johnny had been mixing in. She’d seen him at the ball; the crowd he’d been with were notorious, people with pots of money who were determined to spend it as quickly as they made it, people who loved fast cars and fast horses… people who were as hard as nails, who would think nothing of bankrupting themselves if it was convenient, even if it meant bringing others down with them. Johnny couldn’t keep up with them financially, but no doubt he was their darling, the one who looked after the tons of horse flesh that brought them more financial reward. Honor knew she would never feel comfortable with their
dubious morals, and would always be wary that Johnny was being lured into nefarious practices. She wasn’t sure what, exactly, but she’d read enough Dick Francis to know that some of the people mixed up in racing didn’t always play by the rules. And Johnny was just the type to turn a blind eye for a substantial brown envelope.
Bloody hell, she thought. I really don’t trust him. Not on any level. And it was totally unfounded. She had no proof whatsoever that Johnny was bent, but when she thought about it his Audi estate was top of the range, even if it was filthy, and his watch was expensive… She told herself not to be stupid. Johnny earned a good whack and he had no one else to spend money on and the car would be tax deductible. Of course he wasn’t crooked. She was just looking for excuses… Her mind whirling, she flopped down on the sofa and closed her eyes, trying to make some sense of why she was so reluctant to give Johnny a chance.
In less than a minute, she had drifted off. It had been an exhausting and traumatic week, what with one thing and another. She had a lot of sleep to catch up on. But her mind didn’t allow her any real respite: her dreams were a muddled re-run of the inaugural house party at Eversleigh, her skirmish with Johnny, the night out with Malachi and Marilyn, the night spent in hospital after Ted’s accident. Like a video on fast forward, the images flashed through her mind until they eventually slowed down, and she dreamed of being fast asleep in a feather bed. Her bones melted into the downy mattress, and she snuggled into the warmth of a body lying next to hers. It was bliss; snug, contented bliss. She revelled in the
luxury, until the body next to her rolled over to face her, and she found herself looking into a pair of eyes – not topaz as she might have expected, but sparkling navy blue.
It was Guy.
Honor sat bolt upright on the sofa, hot with embarrassment that she could have dreamed such a thing. Her heart was pounding, as if somehow her mind had been invaded and everybody knew its contents. She swung her legs off the sofa and walked to the kitchen, mulling over the subtext. Was this the reason for her wariness of Johnny? She couldn’t deny the feeling she had in her dream was similar to the feeling she had when Guy had kissed her in the car: bliss, contentment, security, but with a frisson of excitement. She’d told herself at the time it was because he had been so masterfully in control in a time of crisis; that it was just a little crush because he was forbidden territory. After all, it was a ridiculous notion that he might be interested in her. He was practically the lord of the manor, he was engaged to a stunningly beautiful actress, and Honor was definitely below stairs. As he had subtly reminded her only that day. If she was clinging on to the hope of a relationship with Guy to avoid making a decision over Johnny then she was seriously deluded.
Gloomily she went into the kitchen and sawed at the remains of the baguette left over from breakfast. If only she hadn’t gone to the ball, she thought. If she hadn’t gone to the ball, then she wouldn’t have bumped into Johnny. And Madeleine would never have asked her to work at the manor. She would be bumbling along quite happily just as she had for the past six years, with no
dilemmas, no heartache, no crazy bloody Cinderella complex, and everything would be just fine.
At Eversleigh Manor, Madeleine immediately got up Sally’s nose: the glacial smile that lacked warmth, the top-to-toe assessment of her outfit that took less than a second, the patronizing tone. She had absolutely none of Guy’s warmth. He must have got that from his father, Sally decided. She followed Madeleine to the drawing room, wondering if she should have chosen something more conventional to wear than black leather trousers and a military jacket covered in zips, then scolded herself. She was forty-three years old; she could wear what she liked. She’d never pretended to be something she wasn’t before, and she wasn’t going to start now for Madeleine Portias, in her long camel skirt and silk blouse.
In no time at all, the two of them had perfected the art of winding each other up, much to Guy and Richenda’s discomfort. Madeleine would kick off with a leading question and Sally would retaliate with an outrageous answer designed to shock. Over canapés, she boasted that she’d never paid rent or national insurance or taxes in her life.
‘How very unpatriotic,’ Madeleine responded icily. And short-sighted. I’m sure you’ll expect a state pension when the time comes.’
‘I bet you pay your cleaning lady cash,’ Sally flashed back quickly. ‘It amounts to the same thing. You’re still cheating the state.’
By the time they’d finished their roast beef the two of them were embroiled in the great hunting debate. It
promised to be bloodier than any fox being killed. Guy stood up to clear the plates away, hoping that lemon meringue pie left over from the night before would provide a distraction. But over pudding, Madeleine decided to go for the jugular.
‘So, tell me.’ Madeleine cocked her head to one side with an ingratiating smile. ‘Who is Richenda’s
actual
father?’
Guy cringed. His mother could be so insensitive at times. Richenda looked faintly startled, almost as if it was a question that had never occurred to
her.
Sally prodded a potato with her fork, pretending it was Madeleine’s hand.
‘To be honest, I don’t know,’ she said airily. ‘I was a bit of a wild child. Looking at her now, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea, but I couldn’t prove it without a DNA test.’
Richenda dropped her spoon in horror. She now knew Sally was being deliberately provocative.
‘Mum!’ she protested.
‘I wonder when he’ll pop out of the woodwork, then?’ persisted Madeleine, delighted she’d found a weak spot.
‘Probably at the wedding,’ said Sally cheerfully. ‘That would be a laugh, wouldn’t it?’
‘For heaven’s sake, you two,’ said Richenda, unable to bear it any longer.
Sally pushed back her chair and stood up.
‘Actually, I think it’s time I went. I’m obviously not welcome here.’
‘No. Please don’t go.’ Guy stood up as well, anxious to try and make peace. ‘My mother doesn’t mean to be rude.’
Madeleine sat at the head of the table, feigning bewilderment.
‘I didn’t think it was me that was being rude.’
‘Rude? You’re the rudest woman I’ve ever met.’ Sally pointed a finger at Madeleine. ‘You think I’m some promiscuous drop-out that’s been walking the streets for the past twenty years.’
‘I can only make assumptions on what you tell me,’ said Madeleine icily.
‘Well, at least I don’t think I’m better than everybody else. And I’ll tell you something else for nothing,’ she added to Richenda. ‘She doesn’t think you’re good enough for her son, either. She’s only getting at me in order to get at you, because she knows Guy wouldn’t stand for it.’
And with that she stomped out of the room.
‘Gracious,’ murmured Madeleine, pressing her napkin to her mouth.
Richenda and Guy exchanged agonized glances.
‘I better go and see if she’s all right,’ said Richenda, and slipped out of the door. Guy glanced at his mother, who looked at him defiantly.
‘All those questions needed to be asked,’ she said stoutly.
Yes, Mother, but it’s the way you ask them,’ he replied wearily.
‘Well, I can’t help that. It’s just the way I am.’ Guy knew there was no point in arguing with Madeleine. There never had been.
Richenda found her mother rolling a cigarette on the front steps. Sally looked at her like a rebellious teenager expecting trouble, slightly defiant.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil it for you. But I just couldn’t sit there any longer listening to her patronizing us.’
‘It’s OK. I understand.’ Richenda didn’t admit that inwardly she had been cheering Sally’s outburst. She’d wished on more than one occasion that she could stand up to Madeleine.
‘She’s a fucking cow.’ Sally put out her tongue and carefully licked down the end of her Rizla.
‘She’s just protective of Guy, that’s all.’
‘Well, I’m protective of you. Ten years too late, maybe, but she didn’t have to keep pointing it out.’ She lit her roll-up and blew out a defiant stream of smoke. ‘I’m going to go.’
‘Where?’
‘I’ll get the train back to London. I’ll go and stay with Ruth.’
‘I thought she had no room?’
‘She won’t mind me kipping on the floor.’
‘That’s silly. Why don’t you go and stay in my flat?’
Sally shook her head.
‘I can’t do that. It’s taking advantage. And I’m sick of people implying that I’m taking you for a ride.’
‘They aren’t, are they?’
‘They’re all thinking it. I know they are.’
Richenda slid an arm round her bony shoulders.
‘Listen – I know you’re not and that’s all that matters. I’ve told you, if I want to spend money on you, it’s up to me. And what’s the point of you sleeping on Ruth’s floor when there’s a spare bed in my flat?’
Sally looked doubtful.
‘If you’re sure…?’
‘Of course I am. Do you want me to come back with you?’
‘No. I’ll be fine. Anyway, you need to spend some time with Guy. I think he’s lovely, by the way. Nothing like his cow of a mother.’
‘I know he is.’ Richenda sighed. ‘But we’ve got a few things to sort out. It’s been a stressful couple of weeks.’
Sally stubbed her roll-up out on the bottom of one of her new Hobbs boots, then stuck the nub end back in a Golden Virginia tin, which she slid back into her matching handbag. She suddenly felt the need for the security of her old jeans and leather jacket. She’d felt as if she’d been parading round in a costume for the past few days. It had been exciting initially, but she didn’t feel like herself any more.
‘I’m really proud of you, you know that?’ she said to Richenda. ‘Not because of your acting and stuff, though that’s fantastic. But because you’ve been able to forgive me.’
‘You’re my mum,’ said Richenda simply.
‘Yeah, but I haven’t been a very good one.’
‘Life wasn’t easy for you, though, was it?’
‘Only because I chose not to make it easy. At least that’s how it seems looking back on it. I made some really crap decisions. Especially where men are concerned. And it was you who paid the price.’
‘No, it wasn’t. Look at me now. I’d never be here if it hadn’t all gone wrong.’
‘There’s not many people who would look at it that way.’
Richenda shrugged.
‘I don’t really see the point in getting bitter and twisted.’
At that point a battered taxi pulled in through the gates. Sally picked up her bag.
‘This is my cab. I’ll see you in a couple of days, OK?’
Mother and daughter embraced on the step tightly, then Sally disengaged herself quickly and scrambled into the front seat of the taxi before the tears that were threatening to escape made her lose her cool. She didn’t want Madeleine looking out the window and thinking she’d got to her.
‘To the station, is it?’ asked the driver.
Sally just nodded, not trusting herself to speak, then watched in the wing mirror as Richenda waved frantically from the steps until she disappeared from view altogether.
To Honor’s relief, Johnny finally phoned early that evening. She’d resisted calling to see if they’d arrived safely, and instead sat there in agony waiting for the phone to ring.
‘He’s absolutely fine,’ Johnny assured her. ‘We’ve been playing football in the garden all afternoon, he had sausage sandwiches for tea, and he’s going to have his bath in a minute.’
‘Great.’
‘Have you had a good day?’
‘I haven’t done much. But then it’s nice to do nothing.’
There was a small pause.
‘Did you read my letter?’ Johnny asked lightly.