âWell, if that's what they'd like,' said Henry, after consideration. âFrom our point of view it would be very convenient. But are you sure that they want to leave the Lodge after all these years?'
âNaturally, Mrs Ridley and I have had one or two little chats on the
subject,' said Gussie, whose discussions and plans with Mrs Ridley had been exhaustive, âand they would be very happy now to move into smaller quarters.'
âWe'll look into it. It won't be difficult to get the flat back into a cosy little home again. But what's that got to do with Nell and Gillian?'
âWell, my dear, it means that Nell can move down to the Lodge where we can keep an eye on her but meanwhile gives her some independence and freedom. She needs that, especially in the holidays with Jack home. And,' added Gussie firmly, âshe can pay you rent.'
âGussie!' Henry sat up straight. He looked shocked. âIf you think that I could ask Nell for moneyâ'
âNow wait a moment. The Ridleys don't pay rent because having a roof over their heads is part of their wage. But if Nell moves into the Lodge she can apply to the Department of Social Security for Housing Benefit. She's homeless and almost penniless, so she'll get assistance. It's a start. A way of her becoming a little more independent. Nell won't stay long under this roof, Henry. And with Gillian coming home she'll go even sooner and she'd be right to. They both need a fair start.'
âYes, I can see that.' Henry looked troubled. âIf only there was a way â¦'
âThere is a way, Henry. I've just told you. The Ridleys want to be here and if Nell goes to the Lodge she'll be far away enough to be independent and close enough to be kept an eye on. I don't want her to vanish.'
âGood Lord, no!' Henry looked so alarmed that Gussie would have smiled if the situation hadn't been so serious.
âNo. So you see we've got to do a very quick removal before Gillian comes. We don't want her to think that she's not welcome back or that you're in two minds, so it must be quick.'
âYes, I see that. How long would you say?'
âA week or two to get the flat into good working order. That's all. Mrs Ridley keeps the Lodge spotless so Nell can move down as soon
as they're in. We might need some help getting the furniture to and fro but between us all we'll manage. Guy will lend a hand. It will be lovely for Nell to be in her own place with her own things round her.'
âAnd you don't think that she'll feel that we're trying to get rid of her?' Henry was still anxious.
Gussie smiled at him. She was into the home straight.
âpromise you that Nell will be delighted to stay close to Nethercombe without feeling that she's a burden. Trust me, Henry.'
âI'll go and have a look at the flat,' he said pushing back his chair. âIt'll need some tidying up but it shouldn't be too bad.'
Gussie closed her eyes and slumped in her chair. There was nothing more tiring than bending someone to one's will. Positively exhausting! Why couldn't people simply accept that one knew best and leave it at that? All the explaining and going over things ⦠Gussie took another sip of coffee.
âFinished?' Mrs Ridley stood in the doorway with a tray.
âYes, indeed.' Gussie swallowed the last drop and stood up. âLet me help you clear.'
âMister 'Enry's out back lookin' at the flat,' observed Mrs Ridley casually, shuffling plates as though they were playing cards.
âAh.' Their eyes met and exchanged a victorious glance. âThat's good. We don't want to waste time.'
âI've started packin' up, down the Lodge.' Mrs Ridley stacked the tray. âShudden take no time at all.'
Gussie opened the door, stood aside for her to pass with the loaded tray and smiled as she followed her along the passage to the kitchen. Now she only had Nell to convince and she would be content.
Â
Â
ON THE MORNING THAT Henry was to visit Gillian, it would have been impossible to judge who was the more nervous; Gillian or Lydia. Lydia felt two quite separate emotions. The first was a real nervousness of Henry himself. Beside her woolly, undisciplined, easily impressed personality, he seemed a man of upright character; a landowner and a magistrate, running his estate, managing farms, tenants, land. He made her feel inadequate and foolish. The second emotion was a combination of humiliation and embarrassment. Had she been a better mother, Gillian would probably not have behaved so badly and she imagined that Henry might easily despise her. She could see now with the clear unclouded vision that hindsight lends that, when Gillian had turned up en route for France, she should have packed her straight back to Nethercombe with a flea in her ear. Instead, she had almost encouraged her to go. Poor Lydia felt quite ill with remorse.
Gillian's feelings were even more complex. Along with shame and fright, she felt an overwhelming guilt. To know that she had deceived Henry with the man who was responsible for John's death and Nell's desperate situation was something that could never be forgotten. It went to bed with her at night and was waiting for her each morning. Gillian knew that Henry was quite generous enough to put the whole episode â as he understood it â behind him but what if he should ever discover the real truth? Supposing he should find out that it was she who had seduced John into meeting Sam? Gillian felt sick at the
thought and wished with all her heart that she could turn back the clock. She lay awake at night, staring into the darkness, knowing that she could never escape from this terrible knowledge. Sometimes she allowed herself to imagine a scene in which she unburdened her soul to Henry and he forgave her freely; more often she visualised an expression of disgust mingling with dislike dawning on his face and knew that she couldn't risk it. Even if Henry could bring himself to forgive and forget, what about Nell? She was the truly injured one; the victim whose life lay in ruins. Gillian's relief had known no bounds when she found that Henry and Gussie had carried Nell back to Nethercombe. Her only dilemma was how to face her; how to look her in the eyes. She wept with shame and self-disgust and Lydia, who didn't know the whole truth, looked upon her daughter's ravaged face with dismay and became even more nervous of confronting Henry.
âYou'll stay, won't you, Mum?' asked Gillian as they sat waiting for the doorbell to ring. âDon't go. Not to begin with.'
Lydia, who had planned an escape into the kitchen under the pretext of making coffee, looked at her in alarm.
âYou sound as if you're quite frightened of him, darling,' she suggested and screamed faintly as the doorbell rang loudly.
Both women had leaped to their feet and now they stood, listening, Gillian unconsciously clutching Lydia's arm.
âOh, how silly.' Lydia attempted a light laugh and patted her chest nervously. âIt quite made me jump. Shall you go ⦠?' Her words trailed away. Gillian looked as though she might pass away in terror. âI'll go.'
Lydia pushed her daughter back into the corner of the sofa and with trembling knees went out into the hall. She flung open the door with a gesture of bravado and laughed hysterically at her son-in-law.
âHello, Lydia.' Henry was far too happy to notice if she were behaving oddly. âHow nice to see you. Are you well?' He went into the sitting room and Lydia, following behind him, saw him open his arms
to Gillian who stared up at him from her corner. âGillian,' he said and his voice was warm and full of love. âHow wonderful to have you back.' And Gillian leapt to her feet, bolted into his arms and burst into tears.
âOh, darling. Oh dear.' Lydia clucked round both of them and then decided to take the risk of incurring Gillian's wrath and followed her own original plan.
As she filled the kettle and measured the coffee she hovered to and fro, keeping an eye on things through the half-open door. Gillian's sobs had subsided and Henry's deep voice was murmuring tenderly and Lydia gave thanks to all the gods at once that the worst was over. She realised that she was trembling violently and slipping over to the cupboard took a good swig from the whisky bottle. In the act of cramming some biscuit into her mouth, lest the smell should be detected, she was surprised to find Henry close behind her. She clapped a hand over her lips, her eyes round and horrified above it, and nodded brightly at him.
âGone to mop up,' he explained. âShall I carry something?'
He seized the tray whilst Lydia, still nodding encouragingly, swallowed a crumb the wrong way and choked violently. Henry put the tray down so that he could bang her on the back and Gillian, arriving on the scene, poured a glass of water and passed it to her mother. Lydia gulped it back and apologised breathlessly.
âLet's have some coffee.' Gillian looked radiant. âHenry says he's got all sorts of things to tell us.'
Henry picked up the tray again and, behind his back, mother looked at daughter and they hugged wordlessly before following him into the sitting room.
Â
SOPHIE WROTE FIRST; A shy, almost silly letter, crammed full of the âmost amazing' happenings and goings-on. Guy was rather touched but enjoyed Gemma's letter, which arrived a week after Sophie's, much more. It was quite a casual but interesting letter and brought the
writer's easy, happy charm very much to his mind. At the end she wrote that she was hoping to introduce him to Chris Winterton â her submariner boyfriend â during the summer holidays.
Guy found himself feeling worried at the thought of becoming a foursome. He didn't want to give Sophie ideas and, anyway, it had been such fun, just the three of them. He imagined that it had a lot to do with the fact that he'd known them from their cradles until he remembered that he didn't care at all for Gemma's brothers whom he'd known for even longer and, realising that he was in danger of becoming confused again, he whistled to Bertie and wandered up the drive into the beech walk. So immersed in thought was he that it was only when she was nearly upon him did he realise that Nell was walking towards him. How beautiful she was, though much thinner than he remembered her but how well it suited that Pre-Raphaelite unworldliness. She wore a white silk shirt tucked into a heavy cotton skirt that flowed almost to her feet and her dark red hair hung down her back and Guy realised that he was holding his breath. She smiled at him and, after a moment, held out her hand.
âYou don't remember me,' she said. âI'm Nell Woodward. We met at the barbecue last autumn. Is it Guy?'
âYes, it is.' He grasped her hand readily. âAnd I remember you perfectly well.' Several remarks fled through his head, all of which were unsuitable, and he realised that he was still holding her hand and dropped it, flushing darkly. âBertie's been stuck in the office with me all day,' he said, at random. âSo I'm taking the long way round to the pub.' He hesitated, watching her crouch to stroke Bertie who looked at her with dark wise eyes and offered his paw. âWould you like to come?'
He swallowed, amazed at himself, and Nell looked up at him in surprise.
âThat sounds ⦠really nice. D'you know, I would.' She straightened up. âI haven't been to a pub for â¦' she shook her head, âoh, I simply can't remember how long.'
âWell, then.' A strange nervous excitement was surging in his
veins. âIt's only the little local one. Nothing too special. But they do a good drop of Bass and an excellent beef sandwich.'
She smiled at him and his heart did strange exciting things in his breast.
âThat's an offer I'm quite unable to resist. Thank you.'
âWe'll go out by the Lodge,' he said, trying to control himself. âThere's a small wicket gate on to the lane. The big gate's padlocked.'
âI know.' Nell turned to retrace her steps beside him. âI live there now, you know.'
âIn the Lodge?' He stared at her. âI didn't know that. Have the Ridleys gone?'
âGood heavens, no! They've moved up to the house. It was getting a bit too much for Mrs Ridley, going between the two. So we've swapped. Wonderful luck for me. It's a dear little cottage.'
Guy was silent, unable to think of a single thing to say that wasn't loaded with peril. Nell turned her head and smiled at him and he saw the pain and the fear and the loneliness behind it and felt inadequate and impotent to reach out to comfort her.
âI'm glad you're settled.' How bleak it sounded.
âSo am I,' she confided in him. âI was so afraid of being in a muddle when the summer holidays start. I want to be ready for Jack.' She hesitated and he guessed she was wondering how much he knew.
âI understand,' he said with real feeling and she smiled at him again, gratefully. âDoes he like sailing?'
âOh! Yes, actually. He loves it. He does a bit at school.'
âI've got a boat at Dartmouth. Perhaps he'd like to go out?'
âOh, he'd love to! How very kind. Are you sure? He's only twelve and it can be a tiresome age.'
âRubbish! It's a very good age. That's settled then.' He nodded, smiling back at her. âWhat about you? Are you a sailor? Perhaps you'd like to go out? One weekend?'
âI've never sailed.' She looked a little anxious. âIs it ⦠? Is it quite a big boat?'
He really smiled then, a truly warm, genuinely affectionate smile, and she responded automatically, suspecting that he was about to tease her.
âAll I can say to that is,' he said, âcome and find out!'
Â
ONCE AGAIN THE RHODODENDRONS had flowered and, once again, Gussie had watched them turning from bud to bloom as she walked among bushes tall as trees, each covered with the purple and crimson and white blossoms. This spring she felt a special magic. Gillian was back at Nethercombe and Henry was happy again. She and the Ridleys had guarded the secret well. Everyone assumed that Gillian was visiting relations in France and her homecoming had been delayed. When Henry told her that she had nothing to fear from gossip she was grateful and when Gussie greeted her as though she'd just come back from a trip to Exeter, she'd hugged her with the first real affection that she'd ever shown the older woman. Now, on this hot day in early summer, Gussie walked among the rhododendrons remembering that hug and smiling to herself. With that embrace everything between them had been put right and Gussie was being as tactful as she could be in giving Gillian and Henry plenty of time together alone. Even Mrs Ridley, snug and busy as Mrs Tittlemouse in her little house, was prepared to bury old prejudices and extend â albeit cautiously â the olive branch.
Gussie cut off a yellow scented bloom and held it to her nose, sniffing luxuriously. She was surprised at how eager Gillian was to make amends. She behaved like a chastened child who, ashamed of certain exploits, longs to atone. If she'd been asked to guess, Gussie would have said that, in these circumstances, Gillian would have been prone to behave with defiant bravado. Gussie tucked the flower into her cardigan button and strolled on. Even more unexpected was Gillian's reaction to Nell. Here, she had hoped for sympathy on Gillian's part and had been quite taken aback by her sensitivity. She almost seemed to dread meeting Nell and when, finally, it had taken
place, Gillian had been almost deprived of speech and it had been Nell who had been obliged to take the situation in hand.
Gussie cut another bloom and added it to the sprays in the basket on her arm. Nell was healing. It was a slow process but all the better for that; slow and sure and thorough. Gussie walked through the little gate that led to the swimming pool. The doors to the summerhouse stood open and she sat down on the Lloyd Loom chair that stood in the sunshine, its cushions warm. The scent of new-mown grass crept to her nostrils, the birds sang riotously about her and, higher up the valley, a goods train rattled over the viaduct. Gussie closed her eyes and turned her face to the sun.
âThe thing is, Lord,' she said, feeling that the Almighty would be quite grateful to pause in His labours and rest in the sun awhile, âit would be impossible not to heal in this wonderful place. We are so lucky, Lord. So very, very lucky. And don't think we don't appreciate it. Of course, the trouble is that we don't realise that Life is just a series of moments and all that is guaranteed to us is now. This moment in time. If we realised that, we'd stop scurrying about, too busy to stop and enjoy the magic moments because our minds are fixed on a future that probably doesn't exist.' She paused politely, giving the Almighty chance to make a contribution. A thought occurred to her which she looked upon as a direct communication and she nodded thoughtfully. âWell, of course, You're quite right. People are afraid to stop in case they are obliged to confront themselves. Silence is so frightening.'
A figure inserted itself between her and the sun and Gussie opened her eyes. Phoebe stood looking down at her and Gussie smiled serenely.
âGood morning, Phoebe.'
âHi, there. All alone?' Phoebe glanced around.