The Way We Were (16 page)

As soon as she comes into the sitting-room, Pete holds out his arms to her. ‘Tiggy! Great to see you.' He hugs her warmly and she feels all the usual gratitude and relief at being so genuinely welcomed by someone on whom she has no claim. Before she can speak, however, the twins burst in upon the greeting, clamouring for his attention to look at some new piece of work. Pete winks at her. With his fine, curly fair hair and fresh, slightly freckled complexion, he looks like an older version of Andy. Tiggy smiles at him with affection.

‘I can't get over all this industry,' he says. And old Charlie walking out like that. You know, I think that all this effort deserves some reward. Now where did I put those presents?'

There is an instant silence: the twins' eyes follow his movements attentively and only Charlie, who can't remember previous returns from sea, continues to make his own particular Charlie-noises. Julia smiles at the twins' strained expressions of expectation. Pete crouches down and opens his grip, pushing some items of clothing to one side.

Ah,' he says. ‘Here we are. First one for Mummy. Could you give it to her, Liv? Be careful, it's heavy. And this is for Charlie. Here we are, old chap. Now
this
one,' he hefts it in his hand, ‘yes, this one is for Andy. And here's yours, Liv.' The children settle down at once to tear away the wrapping paper and Pete takes out one last parcel and hands it to Tiggy with a little grimace. ‘Hope I've got the colour right,' he says.

She is truly surprised and deeply touched that he should have thought of her. The tissue paper falls away to reveal a long scarf in a dark, brilliant crimson silk threaded with silver and gold. She glances up with involuntary delight but he is looking at Julia, moving towards her, kissing her, as she holds her own present – a huge bottle of scent – in both hands and smiles back at him. Tiggy swallows down an odd constriction in her throat, winds the scarf about her neck and goes out into the kitchen to put the finishing touches to the welcome-home tea-party.

CHAPTER EIGHT

2004

Despite the sunshine it was too cold to sit outside. The wind whirled in the courtyard, whipping up fallen petals, and the air was chill. A fire burned in Em's tiny drawing-room that looked northwards over the delightful village green. The pale apple-green walls and glossy white-painted wood reflected the stretch of grass that lay smooth and flat as water beyond the sash window.

Em took the spray of azaleas, the yellow
luteum
, that Liv had picked in the garden at Trescairn, and bent her head to inhale its heady scent. She was assailed by a memory, fleeting and poignant, but was too busy welcoming Liv to pursueit.

‘I love your house, Aunt Em,' Liv said, waiting for her tea to be poured. ‘It's very couth, isn't it?'

Em chuckled at the word. ‘Is it?'

‘Oh, yes. You've avoided the old-world cottagey bit and retained its proper house-like qualities even though the rooms are small. It's very elegant, though Uncle Archie always seemed rather too big for it.'

‘Poor Archie.' Em was seized with compunction. ‘If I hadn't nagged he'd have probably stayed on at Trescairn.'

‘Well, I love Trescairn too. It was a fantastic place to grow up in.'

‘To be honest, Archie was getting rather weary of carrying logs and coke, and the grounds needed quite a lot of work. They still do. It's nice for Julia that Pete is retired now and can take on some of the load. And it was very sensible to convert the Rayburn to oil and put in central heating. It's much easier to run now than it was back in the seventies. Archie had permanent backache at Trescairn.'

‘I remember how he used to lie along this sofa.' Liv smiled at the recollection. ‘Feet up on one arm, his head on the other. He was so tall. Actually, your ceilings are higher than Trescairn's so he was better off here from that point of view. He always had to duck at home.'

‘Trescairn is a group of cottages converted into one big house.' Em passed Liv her tea, offered a plate of fruit scones. ‘This is a little Georgian house. Quite different. He liked to stretch out along the sofa and listen to the Third Programme, though he couldn't bear anything composed after eighteen fifty.' She laughed. ‘He was such a dinosaur. He always said that there were three phrases he never wanted to hear when he tuned in to listen to a concert: “The composer is with us in the studio”, “This next work has been specially commissioned” and “World premiere”. He'd switch off at once.'

She fell silent, and Liv glanced at her.

‘You must miss him terribly' she said. ‘Poor Aunt Em. Isn't it beastly?'

‘Well, it is,' said Em. ‘I've grown accustomed to certain aspects of being alone but we were married for forty years, he was retired for twenty-five of them, and there are certain things I never quite get used to. It's mostly not having him around to talk to any more. I miss the way he'd read something aloud from an article, or call out clues from the crossword puzzle when I was making breakfast. It's the companionship, of course. You have to learn to live without it.'

‘I can't really imagine it,' admitted Liv ‘Not forty years of it. Of course, Chris and I lived together during the last year at Durham but that's not quite the same.'

Another pause.

‘And how is he?' asked Em warily ‘Chris, I mean. And Val too, of course.'

Liv finished her tea, accepted another scone. ‘They're OK. They get a bit wound up now and again. You know what it's like with a new venture; bound to be a few problems. We'll get over it. I've enjoyed the challenge actually I wish I owned Penharrow but I think I'll have to lower my sights a bit.'

As she poured more tea, Em studied Liv covertly: she seemed less effervescent today, more thoughtful. Oddly this was just as worrying, though Em wasn't quite sure why.

‘Come and see us,' Liv said when she got up to go. ‘You haven't been over for ages and they'd all love to see you again.'

‘What about Thursday next week? Is that a good day? What sort of time?'

‘Come and have lunch. Debs will be thrilled to see you because you're always so complimentary about her cooking. If you come about one o'clock I can have some legitimate time off with you for a change.'

Em waved her off, went back inside and began to clear the tea things. The scent of the
luteum
drifted through the house and Em paused, holding plates in one hand and the teapot in the other, remembering.

1976

The rhododendrons that encircle the lawn and edge the drive are now at the height of their beauty: every colour from creamy white to rich crimson. Tiggy carries twigs of the azalea's fragrant yellow blossoms
luteum
into the kitchen and arranges them in a blue jug.

Aunt Em telephones. ‘I'm probably speaking out of turn,' she says, ‘but I've had a thought. A friend of ours is thinking of letting her holiday cottage in Padstow on a long-term let. She's fed up with summer visitors and the weekly changeover and she wants to try having a tenant. It's very small and I couldn't help wondering if it might suit you once you've had the baby.'

Tiggy's first reaction is terror and then a faint excitement. ‘I still can't quite take in,' she says, ‘that the moment will ever arrive when it'll be me and the baby. I simply can't imagine it. I don't know about the cottage. It sounds … possible.'

‘Poor Tiggy. Don't let me push you into anything. Archie says I'm interfering.'

‘No,' says Tiggy quickly. ‘Oh, no, it's not that. It's pure cowardice on my part. And, anyway, I've got to make some plans soon.'

‘Well, there's no rush. She can't let it until the middle of September because she's already booked up for the summer but she's willing for you to see it. Since you're a friend of mine, and I've said you'd be a reliable and trustworthy tenant, she's prepared to keep the rent reasonable. I can't see that it would do any harm just to look and, after all, you might hate it. I'll come and pick you up after lunch and we'll go and have a poke round this afternoon.'

Tiggy is filled with gratitude and affection. ‘You are so kind. I'd love that.'

*  *  *

Aunt Em opens the front door and goes in, calling out to Tiggy. The dogs come rushing to meet her and she stops to talk to them, bending to stroke Bella's head and giving the Turk a pat, before making her way to the kitchen. She breathes in the scent with delight, seeing the
luteum
in a blue jug on the kitchen table.

‘Heavenly, isn't it?' she says to Tiggy, who comes quickly in, and stands for a moment in the doorway. Em holds out her arms for a hug: she knows that Tiggy will be feeling nervous about the proposed visit to the cottage in Padstow and Em, too, is filled with anxiety.

‘Do you think it might be the answer?' she says earlier to Archie, who rustles his newspaper uneasily.

‘I'm not sure that you should interfere,' he says at last. ‘I can't see why it shouldn't work but you mustn't interfere.'

‘I'm not interfering,' she says, hurt. ‘I'm trying to help.'

‘Ah,' says Archie wisely. ‘It's a very fine line between helping and interfering.'

‘I know that,' she answers crossly. ‘It's also easier to do nothing but it doesn't get us very far.'

He smiles then. ‘It's worth investigating,' he admits. ‘It could be just the thing. But we must let Tiggy decide for herself.'

‘Naturally,' says Em, still nettled at being accused of interfering.

‘We all want to see her settled, obviously.' He shakes his head, folding the paper and putting it aside. ‘Though how on earth she'll manage I can't imagine. Poor kid.'

Em is softened by his sympathy. ‘Between us we'll cope somehow,' she says.

Now, looking at Tiggy's anxious face, Em smiles encouragingly. ‘There's no need to feel pressured,' she tells her. ‘It's just a faint possibility. Anyway, it's a lovely day for a drive to Padstow.'

Her eye falls on a little bronze model of a young boy: the swirl of the tunic, the set of his shoulders, the chin thrusting forward – the whole design is one of movement. Em stretches out her hand towards him.

‘How beautiful,' she says. ‘It reminds me of something. Is it yours?'

Tiggy nods. ‘It's Merlin as a little boy,' she says, picking him up, offering him to Em. ‘I was polishing him up a bit. He belonged to my grandfather. He was a great collector and he was fascinated by the myths of Arthur and Merlin.'

‘It's the most perfect thing,' says Em, turning it round, examining the detail. ‘And even the signature carved here at the base: “Vischer”. That reminds me of something but I can't think what. This little fellow is really delightful.'

‘My grandmother gave him to me when I came west,' Tiggy says. ‘She didn't think my father would miss it. He's got a gallery full of things like this as well as his own private collection …'

She falls suddenly silent and Em remembers that Julia has told her that Tiggy has no family apart from her grandmother, and that it's a painful subject better avoided. In Em's conversations with Tiggy about family, she has never mentioned her father, and Em has assumed that both her parents are dead. The silence is an uncomfortable one.

‘Beautiful.' Em briskly hands the little Merlin back and smiles at Tiggy. ‘So. Are you ready? I'll get the dogs into the car, shall I?'

Tiggy stands the Merlin high on the dresser shelf and reaches for her bag. ‘I'm ready' she says.

The cottage is painted a cheerful pink and seems to be in danger of being crushed between the two more imposing houses on either side. The front door opens straight off the narrow cobbled street and leads into a hallway with a cloakroom behind it and stairs twisting upwards, out of sight.

‘Room for the pram,' says Aunt Em. ‘And for coats and boots and a wet dog. Let's go upstairs.'

The living-room and the galley kitchen are open-plan, which gives a sense of space; one window looks into the cobbled street at the cottage opposite, the other shows an irregular but rather charming roofscape, and more stairs lead up to the bedroom, the bathroom and a tiny boxroom.

‘She's letting it furnished,' says Aunt Em, peering from the bedroom window. ‘Look, you can just see a glimpse of the harbour between those chimneys. So at least you wouldn't have to worry about buying anything apart from things for the baby There's room for a cot in the other little room.'

‘It's odd but rather sweet.' Tiggy is trying to get used to the change from the big rooms and rural setting of Trescairn. ‘It's a bit cramped but I suppose it won't matter with just me and the baby.' She feels suddenly fearful at the prospect of being alone with her baby with nobody else at hand: how will she manage? ‘I shall be close to shops,' she says, trying to be positive, ‘and if I could get some sort of job in Padstow it would be good. But then who will look after the baby?'

She sits down suddenly on the edge of the bed, daunted, and Aunt Em sits beside her and puts an arm around her.

‘It's difficult,' she admits. ‘Between us all we shall manage somehow. This might not be the right place for you to live but I thought you ought to have the chance to think about it. From what you told me I hoped you could afford the rent and have a bit over.' She gives her a hug, rocking her slightly. ‘Don't be downhearted. This is just a start. It might be better for you to be out in the country, nearer to Julia. You need to be able to compare things, see how things might work for you.'