Second Time Around Page 14

  Bea stood abruptly. Marian stopped mid-speech, head flung back as she stared up at her.

  ‘If you’ve finished, Marian. I’ll be getting on. Thank you for your little talk. Very interesting. Have you ever thought of taking up counselling professionally?’

  The headmaster’s wife flushed a dull and unbecoming red. ‘I’m sorry that you should take it like this, Bea.’ Her mouth no longer smiled. ‘I’ve tried to be tactful …’

  ‘Have you?’ Bea smiled a little. ‘Well, no doubt it’s difficult to tell someone that they’re superfluous to requirements. Have you any objections to my remaining in the town or will that upset Matron’s delicate sensibilities too? Perhaps we should ask her where I should be allowed to live? Perhaps it should be brought up at the next staff meeting?’

  ‘That’s a very insulting thing to say.’ Marian got to her feet. She looked upset and Bea felt a twinge of remorse. ‘I am merely doing what is best for everyone …’

  ‘I think it is quite breath-taking that you should imagine you know what is best for everyone. Shall we take the rest as read?’ They stared angrily at each other. ‘I think that Pete is waiting to help me with my belongings. Shall we call him? Thank you for storing them for me.’

  In silence Bea waited whilst Marian went to find the groundsman; in silence they carried the things out to his pick-up truck. When they were safely stowed, Bea turned to Marian and held out her hand.

  ‘I shall be away for Christmas,’ she told her. ‘Thank you for everything.’

  Marian took the proffered hand and held it briefly, her lips compressed, and turned back into the house without a word.

  ‘What’s eating her?’ asked Pete curiously, as Bea climbed in beside him.

  Bea felt guilty; they should not have allowed their feelings to show before the staff. A tiny voice reminded her that Marian had never been popular and a sense of wicked rebellion filled her. Why should she worry about Pete guessing that a row had been going on in the headmaster’s drawing room? Such things—as had just been firmly pointed out—were no longer her problem. Momentarily, loyalty deserted her.

  ‘She’s been giving me the sack,’ she said.

  He gaped at her as they moved off down the drive. ‘Sack? Thought you’d gone already.’

  ‘So I have.’ Bea pulled herself together and reassembled her ideas of duty and responsibility. ‘Just a joke. Keep your eyes on the road.’

  Bea shifted in her seat as the train drew in at Newton Abbot. She watched a young woman struggling along the platform. A baby lay against her chest in a sling, a toddler clung to one of her hands whilst, in the other, she carried a suitcase. A man and a woman broke free from a crowd of people and went to greet her. As Bea watched, the man swung the toddler into his arms and gave him a hearty kiss, the woman touched the baby’s cheek, embraced her daughter and relieved her of the case. Moving as one unit, chattering all together, they moved towards the exit.

  Bea found herself remembering Will’s voice when she had telephoned to tell him at what time she would be arriving at Totnes. He had made her feel that nothing could have given him—or Tessa and Isobel—more pleasure than to know that she would be joining them for Christmas. Her sore heart had been warmed by his friendliness and she had spent the remaining days choosing presents for them in the town. She had warded off curious looks and questions, glad that she had somewhere to which she could escape. The thought of spending Christmas alone in her flat was a chilling one and there had been very few offers of hospitality.

  During those lonely days after Marian’s ‘talk’ she realised how important her job had been. It had given her status, a title and a position within the community. Now she was no one; Matron no longer, nobody’s mother or wife or child or aunt, just Bea. As she had stood, staring out of the flat window at the shops opposite, a thought had slipped into her mind. She had cousins, now; cousins who wanted her to make a home with them and to share their inheritance and their lives. Bea stared thoughtfully out into the gathering darkness. Once Tony Priest had issued from the bookshop across the road and raised his hand. For one golden moment she thought that he was summoning her. Almost she hurried down to meet him but, hesitating, she saw his wife emerge from somewhere below the window and cross the road to him. He made some laughing remark and she gave him a friendly push. Slipping an arm about her shoulders they vanished into the evening. After a moment or two, Bea turned back into the shadows of the darkening room and sat down. The next day she had telephoned to the house in the cove … and now here she was, collecting her belongings, stepping over the legs of the recumbent young man and going to meet Isobel and Will at Totnes station.

  ‘I WONDER WHY SHE’S coming,’ mused Isobel for the fiftieth time as she and Will drove through Harbertonford.

  For the present, they were sharing the Morris. Will had managed to sell his own car whilst he was in Switzerland and was now looking around for something to replace it. Isobel had suggested that, instead of spending money on a hired car, he should use the Morris until he found what he wanted. Will readily agreed. For one thing it meant that he and Isobel did so much more together. It was sensible to make joint journeys to go shopping or to the library and, on the days when Isobel was at the bookshop, Will was more than content to potter in the cove. Slowly he was pulling the house together, unobtrusively giving it a face lift, and, as he worked quietly and happily, he thought about Isobel. He was surprised at how strong his feelings were for her. He remembered that it had taken him quite a while to approach Bierta; not because of shyness but because he was cautious.

  Will had inherited the Rainbird qualities of self-sufficiency and the ability to live alone, as well as a low physical drive. He, like Mathilda, was not cut out for passion or dramatic scenes; jealous rages and extravagant reconciliations were unknown to him. Bierta had charmed him but the qualities which he attributed to her had been, very largely, in his own imagination. Isobel was so different in almost every way to Bierta and he had loved her as soon as he had seen her on the beach. ‘No fool like an old fool,’ he told himself. This was very different from his love for Bierta and he had no intention of declaring it. For one thing he must be at least twenty years older than Isobel and for another he knew that she was unhappy. Quite soon she had begun to tell him about her marriage and how she had left Simon and had an affair. Gradually she told him how it had come to nothing but that it had destroyed her marriage. Her husband had found another woman and was now seeking a divorce.

  ‘I still love him, you see,’ Isobel had said, staring away from him, looking out over the sea. ‘That’s the whole bloody irony of it. I threw it all away.’

  Will had remained silent. Everything he thought of to say sounded trite or inadequate. Presently she had looked at him and shrugged.

  ‘Do you think happiness is important?’ she’d asked him.

  There had been an earnestness in her voice and she had watched him eagerly while he thought about it. He felt ill-equipped to answer such a question and that odd tenseness about her made him nervous.

  ‘I suppose it all depends on what you mean by happiness?’ he’d said slowly at last and she’d given a great cry, covering her face with her hands. ‘What is it?’ he’d asked. ‘What’s the matter?’ He felt almost angry with her, as though she was making him play a game without telling him the rules.

  ‘Nothing,’ she’d said, shaking her head, but she’d looked distressed. ‘It’s just that you’re so like Mathilda. You even speak like she did. She always used to say that. “It all depends on what you mean …” That’s how she always answered.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Will said helplessly. ‘I don’t think I’m being much use.

  ‘Yes, you are.’ She’d jumped up and gone to the window. ‘It’s a lovely afternoon. Come on. I’ll show you Bolberry Down. It’ll be glorious up there. We’ll watch the sunset.’

  Her words struck a chord in Will’s memory. He’d taken Bierta to watch the sunset on the lake once, early on in their relationship.
Afterwards she’d been cool and evasive and years later he’d heard her say rather bitterly to a friend, ‘Will’s the kind of man who takes you to see the sunset and then actually expects you to sit and watch it!’

  He’d realised that she’d thought his invitation was an excuse to get her alone in a romantic setting and he’d wondered how often he had failed her in that area of their lives together. Luckily, Isobel had expected him to watch the sunset and afterwards they stopped for a drink at the Cricket at Beesands and had come home to one of her delicious casseroles. She treated him with the ease and affection of a long-standing friend and he was grateful. He had no intention of rocking the boat with presumptuous declarations but he wished that Isobel had been his first love rather than his second.

  When Bea telephoned, Will had sensed that all was not well with her and he hoped that she was not coming to tell them that she’d changed her mind and wanted to sell the house after all. If that were the case then he and Tessa would have to fall back on his plan to sell some of the furniture. James had confirmed his suspicions that some of it was very valuable and had agreed that, if Bea changed her mind, then it would be wise to sell some of the pieces and buy her out.

  Now, as they drove through Harbertonford, Will shook his head at Isobel’s question. He had not voiced his fears, no point in panicking unnecessarily. Anyway, Bea hardly needed to come for Christmas to tell them that she wasn’t prepared to wait after all.

  ‘I thought she was sharing a house with a friend,’ he said. ‘Perhaps they’ve fallen out.’

  ‘Fatal, I should have thought.’ Isobel pulled her scarf higher round her neck. The Morris’s heater was extremely inefficient. ‘Fraught with difficulties.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’ Will glanced at his watch. ‘Plenty of time. Like some coffee?’

  ‘Oh, yes please. But why do you say “Don’t say that,” in that tone of foreboding?’

  ‘Because,’ he said, turning into Cistern Street and heading for the car park, ‘it is what we are all attempting to do. Well, me and Tessa and probably Bea as well, by the sounds of it.’

  ‘Well, it will be fraught with difficulties,’ said Isobel frankly. ‘No good pretending. Bound to be. You’ll manage.’

  He pulled into the Heath Nursery car park, smiling at the confidence in her voice. ‘You’ll have to be referee,’ he told her. ‘Got any change for the meter? Just time for a quick cup of something hot in Rumours if we get a move on.’

  THEY WERE WAITING FOR her on the platform, taking her case, walking on each side of her, hurrying her out to the car. Isobel insisted that Bea sat in front and leaned over her shoulder so as to point out the old castle ruin as the Morris chugged up the hill on the Kingsbridge road.

  Bea settled back in the seat and began to relax a little. Her fears that they might have been dreading her arrival, that she would be in the way, began to fade a little. Isobel explained that Tessa was coming for Christmas Day.

  ‘It’s such a pity she can’t come for longer,’ she said, ‘but we must make the most of it. She’s bringing Romulus and Remus.’

  Bea turned to look into the face so close to her own. ‘She’s bringing who?’

  They laughed at the expression on her face and explained as the Morris turned off into the five-mile lane and wound its way down to the coast. The short winter day was drawing in and the sea looked like grey slate as they parked behind the house and drew her inside. They took her up to the sitting room where a Christmas tree sparkled in the alcove with a pile of presents waiting temptingly beneath its boughs. Will made up the fire and Isobel drew the curtains and went to make tea. Bea sat looking at the tree with its tiny wooden carved figures, and at the shimmering glass balls and the tinsel, and then she looked about the room, cosy and welcoming in the firelight.

  So it was that Bea came home to the cove.

  Seventeen

  THE YOUNG MAN WHO had bought Mrs Carrington’s bureau sat in his car, parked unobtrusively in the quiet road, and watched Tessa pull in at the gate and stop her car in the drive. She climbed out, shut the gates and released the two labradors from the back. They flopped out heavily and went to drink at a large bowl by the back door. Tessa let herself in and the dogs lay down, panting stertorously, on the concrete apron in front of the garage. The young man had his eyes on his watch. Two minutes passed, three, four … He imagined her kicking off her boots, hanging up her coat, going into the kitchen and filling the kettle … He switched on the engine and drove along to the gate.

  Romulus and Remus heaved themselves up and, with a bark or two as a token of their vigilance, came wagging to greet him. He touched their heads perfunctorily, his glance alert; no one seemed aware of his arrival. He went to the front door and rang the bell. After a moment Tessa opened the door. She was still wearing her woollen hat and on her feet were thick socks.

  ‘Sorry.’ He managed to appear both slightly surprised and apologetic. ‘I was hoping to have a word with Mrs Carrington. Is she about?’

  ‘I’m afraid she’s away. Back tomorrow.’

  He bit his lip, frowning. ‘Oh, that’s a pity. I was hoping … Never mind. You look as if you were on your way out. I don’t want to keep you.’

  ‘On my way out? Oh …’ Tessa swept off her hat and shook her head. ‘I’ve just come in actually.’ She hesitated, studying him. ‘Don’t I know you?’

  ‘Amazing!’ He laughed in his relief. ‘You’ve made my day. I remember you, of course. Who wouldn’t?’ He made a gallant little bow. ‘I came to collect Mrs Carrington’s bureau last Easter.’

  ‘Yes.’ She grimaced ruefully at her forgetfulness. ‘Sorry. I remember you now. Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Well …’ He looked thoughtful, rubbing his chin as he stared past her into the hallway. ‘Since I’m in the area … She suggested that I might come back and have a look at one or two things … Oh dear. Am I being indiscreet?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Tessa stepped back and opened the door wider. ‘I’m sure she won’t mind if you have a look. Although I’d better stay with you, if you don’t mind.’ She shifted uncomfortably. ‘You know how it is?’

  He smiled at her as he preceded her into the hall. ‘Don’t give it a thought. I understand perfectly. You are responsible in her absence.’

  ‘That’s fine, then.’ Tessa relaxed. ‘Come on through. Where do you want to start?’

  The young man looked about him. ‘There were one or two things in here and a chest of drawers in her bedroom.’ He sighed and shook his head. ‘I have the horrid feeling that Mrs Carrington would really rather not part with her treasures. Sometimes my job is not a nice one.

  Tessa looked at him sympathetically, liking him for his compassion. She thought of all Mathilda’s things, glad now that the fear of selling them had receded for the time being.

  ‘Have you one of your leaflets?’ she asked him. ‘Or a card?’ If an emergency cropped up and they were obliged to sell any of Mathilda’s pieces, this young man would at least be sensitive about it.

  He was digging in his pocket, staring at a small inlaid table which stood under the window. ‘I hope you haven’t got to part with some family heirloom.’

  ‘Not yet.’ She took his card and studied it. ‘Are you Adrian Pearson? ’

  ‘I am.’ He made her another little bow. ‘And you … ?’

  ‘I’m Tessa Rainbird.’ They shook hands a little awkwardly. ‘I look after people’s dogs and houses.’

  ‘Quite a responsibility. Especially in these lawless times.’

  ‘I must admit that there are one or two places where I feel rather nervous.’ Tessa perched on the arm of a chair and watched him examine the little table. ‘Just a couple of the houses are fairly remote. I have to rely on the dogs to protect the stuff. And me.’

  He laughed with her, dropping down to balance on his heels whilst he examined the table underneath. ‘I think I’d better give you some of my leaflets to take round with you.’

  ‘Well, I could I suppose.’
Tessa sounded a little reluctant. She shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  He looked at her quickly as he straightened up. ‘Well, I was joking actually but I suppose it’s not a bad idea. You never know when people might need some ready cash. You’d get a commission, of course.’

  She frowned and he saw that he might have looked too eager. ‘Don’t be offended. It would be only fair, if you think about it. You have access to places I could never hope to find. I wouldn’t be happy if you weren’t rewarded for your trouble.’

  ‘Well, it’s hardly a trouble to leave a few leaflets about but it’s nice of you to offer.’ She slipped off the chair. ‘Finished?’

  ‘I think so.’ He was making notes in a little book. ‘If I could just have another look at that chest?’

  ‘Of course.’ She led the way to the bedroom and stood at the door watching. ‘It’s pretty, isn’t it?’

  ‘Very.’ He ran his hands gently over the polished rosewood of the little bow-fronted chest.

  ‘We’ve got one like that.’ She spoke without thinking. ‘Well, it looks like that. I don’t know anything about antiques.’

  ‘That’s at your home, is it?’ He spoke absently, running the drawers in and out, examining them closely.

  ‘Yes.’ Tessa smiled to herself. ‘It’s at my home.’

  Isobel and Will had given her Mathilda’s bedroom and the little chest stood against the wall bearing a tiny bookcase of strange old books, so small that she could hardly read the writing. It was wonderful to go into that room and shut the door and feel that she belonged there … Adrian was watching her curiously and she smiled quickly, defensively.

  ‘Sorry. Just daydreaming. All done?’

  ‘All done,’ he agreed. He glanced at his watch. ‘If you’re quite serious about those leaflets …?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ she assured him. ‘It’s no problem.’

  ‘If you’re certain.’ He looked concerned. ‘I feel that I offended you over that commission business. I was clumsy …’