The Sea Garden (11 page)

‘Yes, she was a gentle, quiet girl. Well, Ma and Pa had been having a slight relationship problem and they'd both been finding comfort elsewhere. On the day Charlotte went out on that fateful pony ride she'd found out something a bit unsavoury about Ma and they'd had a row. She was very upset and, as you know, the pony slipped at the edge of the quarry and they both went over. Ma can never forgive herself. She told me about it when you went out to Canada. She said that it had brought back terrible memories and she and Pa were just so relieved that you and Guy had sorted things out and the twins were happy.'

Gemma gazes at her brother with horror and fear. ‘Charlotte found out something?'

‘Ma didn't give me any details. Perhaps Charlotte overheard something – perhaps a telephone call – and confronted Ma. Apparently there was a very bad scene and Charlotte just dashed out and got on her pony and rode off without putting on her hard hat. Ma said that the bitter truth was that her affair had been over for a while but Charlotte still suspected her of infidelity.'

‘I can't believe that Ma would have messed around.'

‘Can't you? I should have thought that it would be quite easy for you to understand the quirk of character that leads you to have flirtations and play the field.'

‘Thanks,' she says grimly. ‘I asked for that. But even so…'

‘One doesn't like to imagine one's parents in that situation? True. Look, I'm saying this because they're both anxious that nothing like this should happen to you. Or the twins.'

‘Shut up. Just shut up. You've made your point.' There are tears in her eyes. ‘I can't take it in. Charlotte … Oh my God. Why are you telling me now?'

‘For two reasons. First, so that you can understand a bit better why Pa is going on like he is. He doesn't want history to repeat itself. Second, I think you'll get another chance with Guy and you should think very carefully about it.'

‘It's awful.'

‘Yes, it's awful. But it explains things a bit, doesn't it?'

She nods. ‘It's just such a shock. I mean, I know Charlotte was killed falling off her horse, but putting it into this kind of context makes it … Oh, I don't know. Oh God, however did they live with it?'

‘With a great deal of heartbreak and difficulty. But they had to carry on. Shit happens. Deal with it.'

She stares at him, shocked. ‘There's no need to be so brutal about it.'

‘I don't feel brutal. I've had more chance to get used to the truth and, like you said, it happened a long time ago. It's just that I don't want everyone going off half-cock. OK, Pa's being tiresome but now you know why, you'll be less likely to do something silly and rush off in a fit of temper. We have to think of Ben and Julian. They need stability right now.'

‘I know they do,' she says defensively. ‘I know that. This is for them just as much as me. More, if anything. They weren't particularly happy out there lately, you know.'

‘OK. OK.' Oliver raises his hands pacifically, palms up. ‘But it's going to be better now. They'll go to Mount House next week for the assessment and with luck they'll go straight in. It's amazingly lucky that the school has got space for them.'

Gemma subsides into the corner of the seat. ‘I know. And I'm truly grateful that you're prepared to sub us the fees if they do get in, Ol.'

He grins sardonically. ‘I hope Guy will feel the same. He and I were never great buddies and I suspect he'll find it just a shade difficult to cope with.'

‘I know he will.' She makes a little face. ‘That's tough. I am utterly thrilled at the chance to have Ben and Julian at Mount House. I think it helped with Mr Massie to know that they had a father and a few uncles there before them. That's going to be another shock for Pa. That you'll be shelling out for two sets of school fees.'

He shrugs. ‘I can afford it and I'm their godfather as well as their uncle. He should be pleased to know they'll be settled.'

‘He is, but he still feels it. It must be a bit tough for him knowing how wealthy you are.'

‘I cry all the way to the bank. Are we going to have some lunch?'

She sits up straighter. ‘Did you bring me here just to tell me that? About Charlotte.'

‘It had to be said. I don't see how you ever get over losing a child, for whatever reason, but they've struggled on and tried to come to terms with it. It's easy to make harsh judgements about people when you don't know the truth about them. You're a big girl now and I reckon you can take it.'

‘Would Mum mind you telling me?'

He shrugs. ‘Probably not now. She didn't absolutely say it was a secret but I'd rather you didn't mention it to her. And certainly not to anybody else.'

‘Good grief, no.' She shudders; frowns suddenly. ‘D'you think Kate knows?'

He hesitates and then nods. ‘Almost certainly. They've always been so close, haven't they? Come on, let's order.'

She watches him as he goes to the bar and she sees a reflection of herself: tall, elegant, blond, attractive. She wonders why he's never nailed a relationship, never committed; after all, there have been plenty of contenders.

‘I get bored too quickly,' he said once. ‘It wouldn't be fair.'

Selfishly she's rather glad; he's such a mate, always there when something crops up. More importantly, he's always on her side. A wife or partner might be a bit of a nuisance. The point about Oliver is that he doesn't make judgements, which is why, when he does get serious, she listens. Like just now …

Gemma drinks some more wine and tries to remember Charlotte. She reflects on the big age gap between six and fifteen, and the fact that Charlotte had been away at school for so much of the time. Oh, but how ghastly for Ma: what a price to pay for some foolish flirtation. How terrible it must be to have an argument with your child and then never see her alive again; to live with the aching thought that if she hadn't been so upset she'd have taken more care. She thinks about her twins, out with Kate for the day, and her heart is squeezed painfully with love and fear and a longing to protect. It occurs to her that Pa isn't simply being bloody-minded and cross with her; he, too, is trying to protect her – and the boys – from her actions.

Oliver glances across from the crowd around the bar, gives her a little wink. She grins at him and her whole body suddenly relaxes: thank God for Ollie.

‘I shall be coming home sometime in the next fortnight,' she said to him on the telephone. ‘Is there any chance you could be there? Can you make some reason for visiting? It'll be so much easier if you're around.'

And there he was, acting as a buffer state, making her laugh, taking charge of the twins, who adore him. Oh, he can afford to do as he pleases, she thought, he's made a packet, but not everyone in his position would be as kind as her big brother.

‘So tell me about Jess,' she says as he sits down again. ‘I still haven't met her yet. Is she as gorgeous as Pa says?'

‘She's certainly a looker but not in an obvious way. She's got very long, very dark reddish-brown hair and her eyes are almost exactly the same colour. A very sweet, neat face, but not in any way vacuous. She looks keen, alert, very alive.'

Gemma's eyebrows shoot up. ‘Well. That's a very detailed description. I can almost see her.'

‘Kate's taking her down to meet the Trehearnes. You remember them? Mad Lady T and dear old Johnnie. Apparently they knew Jess's grandparents back in the day. I felt quite sorry for the poor kid to begin with, but she's absolutely loving it all. I like her a lot. Pity about the age gap but there it is. Clearly I've taken on Unk's mantle and I'm destined to be everybody's uncle.'

‘Oh, I don't know. If I were just out of uni with my way to make in the world I'd think you were a jolly good catch.'

‘I'll introduce you,' he says, ‘and you can put in a word for me. Do you want another drink?'

*   *   *

Tom puts the newspaper aside and glances at his watch; a bit too early for the one o'clock news. Cass is off playing bridge, Oliver and Gemma have gone out to lunch, and he ought to be feeling a sense of freedom and relaxation. Instead he feels scratchy and cross. He doesn't want to have to think too much just at the moment. Gemma's return and the arrival of Jess have brought all sorts of memories rushing back, some of them good. He likes to remember those days when he was a young cadet, before he met Cass, hanging out with Johnnie Trehearne and Freddy Grenvile. The Trehearnes were very generous with their hospitality and he went home with Johnnie and Fred from Dartmouth on many occasions for a weekend. The three of them became good friends though he was never quite so keen on sailing as the others. He never let on, of course; it did him no harm at all to be a close oppo of Dickie Trehearne's son and he took advantage of it.

Seeing Jess has brought it all back. He was knocked sideways by Juliet but she was more taken up with the older ones: Al and Mike and Stephen Mortlake. Now he tries not to admit the fact that he's slightly jealous of Oliver's growing friendship with Jess and the way that his elder son attracts women. Anyway, Oliver's too old for the girl, nearly twice her age. And he's got far too much money. It's always been a mystery to him that old Uncle Eustace was so impressed with Oliver; taking him into the business, leaving him his shares. He had a very high opinion of Oliver. And Oliver was very fond of Unk.

‘It's not the same,' he said after Unk died. ‘There's just no fun in the business any more. And it's grown far too big. I've had a very good offer for it and I shall take it.'

And so he had. He didn't ask advice from his father, talk it through with him, nothing like that. No. Just, ‘I've had a very good offer and I shall take it.'

‘For goodness' sake!' Cass cried when Tom said this to her. ‘So what? Leave him alone. Why can't you be proud of him for doing what he does so successfully?'

Tom refolds the paper irritably, glances again at his watch. He was glad when Cass went off to her bridge morning, giving them both a breathing space. There have been quite a few rows lately about Gemma's predicament and – indirectly – Oliver's involvement.

‘We've lost one daughter,' Cass shouted, ‘and I don't intend to lose another. Gemma and the twins stay here until she's ready to move on.'

She actually said that: ‘We've lost one daughter.'

He sees her clearly: Charlotte. She'd never have behaved as Gemma has; she was so sweet and gentle and loving. How he misses her and what a comfort she would have been to him now. He stands up and walks away from the table as if he can walk away from his pain; away from the fear that Gemma might precipitate just such another tragedy.

‘That's simply nonsense,' Cass says, exasperated by his anxiety. ‘This is all completely different. The twins aren't adolescent girls with feverish imaginations, and Gemma isn't playing the field any more. For God's sake, get a grip.'

He knows her anger is an outward expression of her own remorse and grief but that doesn't help. What will happen if Guy takes a firm stand and Gemma has to face the future alone with the twins? He asks Cass this question and she simply shrugs.

‘Other women have managed,' she says.

And they both know that Oliver would take care of his sister and his nephews. Tom tries to decide why this knowledge irritates him so much; after all, he doesn't
want
to see Gemma and the boys suffer. He gropes towards an answer but can't find it. All he can see is Charlotte on one side, the scapegoat for his and Cass's misbehaviour, and Gemma, nonchalantly and uncaringly recreating just such another disaster, on the other. It's as if Charlotte has suffered for them all and his own sense of guilt seeks to assuage her spirit by punishing Gemma.

He needs a drink and it's time for the news. Tom makes himself a gin and tonic, switches on the television and sits down at the table.

TAMAR

The tide is making; slipping and sliding across the mudflats, advancing on the birds – seagull, shelduck, curlew – that scoop and probe at the edges of the deep-water channel. Downriver the two great bridges, Brunel's railway and the road bridge, one elegant structure superimposed against the other, are hardly visible in the early-morning mist; they look delicate, ethereal, strong as a cobweb. Along the littoral, the high-tide line is a litter of twigs and broken branches, seaweed and bladderwrack. As the salt water floods into the river's bed the boats begin to swing on their moorings and a white egret sails across their mast-tops, its reflection clear and dazzling on the mirror-like surface of the rising tide.

Standing at her bedroom window, Rowena peers shortsightedly at the magical scene. Her memory sketches in the things she can no longer see without her spectacles, and fills her deaf ears with once-familiar sounds: the plock of the seagulls' feet in the mud, the creak of the swinging hulls, the curlew's evocative cry.

Soon there will be the usual knock at the door and Johnnie, still in his dressing gown, will bring her early-morning tea. She will be brusque with him because it is her way; she has never learned to be tender. Only with Alistair, her first-born, her beloved; only with darling Alistair has she ever been able to be truly loving. They were alike, she and Al; tough, greedy, demanding, passionate. She understood him, gave way to him, shielded him from his detractors and, when he died, part of her died with him. It had been more than forty years since Al died but the past is still fresh; and now the child has come, looking just like her grandmother, and the ghosts with her.

And here is the knock at the door and she shouts ‘Come!' irritably because she is still living in that moment of meeting Jess, seeing the girl's bright face and eager ways.

‘Wait,' she snaps at Johnnie as he puts down the tray on the table by the window. ‘Only a quarter of my head is working.'