Second Time Around Page 22

  ‘I think it is part of the same thing,’ she’d said at last. ‘Sorry, Giles, but you can’t separate them. They’re part of the same instinctive anxiety. Your natural urge to dither merely underlines your fear of letting people down. I understand and I sympathise but you must try to overcome it. Your reluctance to commit yourself is a really negative trait. You’ll miss out on so much. OK, so you’ll get things wrong. So do we all. You will hurt and be hurt. It’s life. It can be painful but it’s better than never living at all.’

  ‘But you say you feel guilty because you got it wrong,’ he’d argued. ‘It’s you who say that your mistakes have affected our lives, too. Supposing I turn out like Dad and repeat the pattern all over again?’

  ‘Oh, Giles, I know.’ She had looked at him with compassion and remorse. ‘It’s just that you’re not much like Mark and, more importantly, you’re aware of your weaknesses and attempt to overcome them. I just hope that when the moment comes it’ll sweep you along and you’ll forget all these misgivings.’

  Giles put a Gerry Mulligan cassette in the car tape deck and listened to the mellow notes of the saxophone. Kate had been right. When Tessa had told him of her engagement to Sebastian all his doubt and caution had been swept away. He knew quite surely that he loved her and that he was going to make a fight for her. He knew, too, that this must be a calm, quiet, determined fight—but he had a strange conviction that he was going to win it.

  TESSA, PEERING IN HER mirror, checked to see that Giles was still behind her. His quiet strength had been exactly what she needed and she felt grateful.

  ‘I’ll drive behind you,’ he’d said firmly, ‘then you can set the pace and stop when you want to have a cup of coffee or if you feel tired. Don’t worry. You won’t lose me.’

  Nor had she. Every time she overtook a vehicle or a car pulled out directly behind her, she would glance anxiously in the mirror until she saw Giles’s little hatchback closing up behind her. Sidney watched, too. He had been drawn to Giles’s calm approach, a pleasant change after the tension of the previous few days, and he wanted to keep him in sight.

  ‘He’s nice, isn’t he, Sid?’ said Tessa. Sidney’s ears cocked at the sound of her voice but he continued to stare out of the back window. ‘I really like him,’ said Tessa thoughtfully. ‘I feel like I’ve known him for ever but there’s something about him …’

  Her voice tailed away. She was remembering with faint embarrassment how she had rushed into his arms. He had taken it all very naturally—and she had been able to regain her composure quite quickly—but she was surprised at the strange conflict of emotion which she had felt in that moment when he had held her closely. The old confusion was back. Why had she not thought of telephoning Sebastian? Because, said an inner voice, he wouldn’t have really wanted to be bothered with it all. Tessa felt the need to come to Sebastian’s defence. He had been brought up in a service family and was used to seeing his mother cope with all kinds of disasters. The Navy couldn’t let its men go on leave each time there was some small domestic crisis or there would be no fighting force left. She knew that she must learn to manage alone and that it was not Sebastian’s fault that he could not be on hand every time she felt emotional.

  She brooded on this, her respect for naval wives increasing. What a lonely life it must be. Suddenly she remembered something Kate had said to her when she was talking about her divorce from Mark Webster.

  ‘The Navy taught me to live without my husband,’ she’d said, ‘and then I found I could. It’s like giving something up for Lent and then discovering that you don’t need it any more.’

  Tessa could understand that and, after all, it was no lonelier a life than the one she was leading. She felt an affinity with Mathilda who had lived so contentedly by herself in the cove. No doubt she had known loneliness but she had learned at some point that it was better to be alone than to live with the wrong person. Tessa felt a deep satisfaction at the knowledge that Mathilda, Will, Bea and she, Tessa, shared the same great-great-grandfather. No doubt they also shared similar character traits. Bea had managed quite happily, unmarried, and Will seemed quite ready to move to the relative isolation of the cove. All three of them recognised something familiar in the others; they were family.

  Tessa slowed a little to allow Giles to catch up. She tried to see Sebastian fitting in at the cove once they were married and frowned. He had been very polite to Will and Bea but there had been something missing.

  ‘Nice old things,’ he’d said, as they drove away up the track with Will waving goodbye on the beach. ‘And Isobel’s OK. Let’s hope she moves on soon and then we can have the cottage when I’m on leave. Can’t imagine us bouncing about in bed with that old biddy in the next room. You can tell she was a matron. She’s got all the hallmarks. I’d probably be impotent at the mere thought!’

  Tessa had tried to laugh with him but she’d felt hurt and upset. Bea and Will were her people and she hated it when he laughed at them. On the other hand, it was exactly as he talked about his own parents. Perhaps, because it was so long since she’d had a family of her own, she was being oversensitive. Tessa felt the now-familiar confusion. She knew that he was right and that it would be quite impossible to make love with Bea in the next room; but she had never contemplated such a thing taking place until they were married, any more than she would have considered sharing Sebastian’s bedroom at the Andersons’. She tried to be reasonable but simply remained confused. This was what she had longed for and dreamed about for so many years but there was something not quite right somewhere.

  She glanced at her mirror. Giles was driving easily arms relaxed, head on one side. He looked as though he might be listening to music. She knew instinctively that he would not mock Will or Bea, nor suggest that he and she make love in the house in the cove. She felt quite hot at the thought of making love with Giles and experienced a sudden sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. At that moment she feared that she had got things terribly muddled.

  ‘Surely,’ she said aloud—and Sidney turned to look at her—‘surely I’m just being silly and over-emotional? Oh God! Don’t let me have got it wrong.’

  She bit her lip, driving a little slower now as she tried to sort things out. Could her childhood passion for Sebastian have blinded her? Had she been so infatuated with him that she had never bothered to consider whether they were truly suited? She realised that she was slowing right down and looked quickly in her mirror. Giles flashed his headlights at her and gave her a little wave. She waved back, knowing a desire to burst into tears. His friendly caring gesture confirmed her terrors. She had got herself engaged to the wrong man. She remembered how delighted Mrs Anderson had been, how she’d hugged Tessa and said how thrilled she was to have her as a proper daughter at last. She thought of how Rachel, her oldest friend, had shrieked her joy down the telephone. She recalled the kindnesses of all the Andersons over the last ten years when she had been so lonely and unhappy. Tessa stared miserably at the road before her. She had become engaged to the wrong man and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She could never hurt the Andersons after all that they had done for her; without them she would not even have her job.

  She was aware that Giles was flashing his headlights at her and pointing ahead where the bright and cheerful sign of a Happy Eater café glowed. Tessa understood what he was trying to tell her and pressed her indicator. She guessed that he had read her slowing down as a sign of weariness and was suggesting that it was time for a break. Gratefully she pulled into the car park and began to reverse into a space by some grass. Sidney whined anxiously.

  ‘Shut up, Sid,’ she said automatically. ‘Don’t fuss. I’m just about to give you a run.’

  Somehow the familiar action of opening the tailgate and freeing Sidney had the effect of calming her and she was able to greet Giles with a smile.

  ‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘I was getting a bit tired.’

  ‘I thought you might be,’ he said as they strolled behin
d Sidney. ‘You must be exhausted after all the traumas. Shall I go and order some coffee?’

  ‘I suppose …’ she began reluctantly, not wanting him to go, willing him to remain with her. ‘If you … Yes, why not?’

  ‘It’ll save a bit of time,’ he said, pretending not to notice her hesitation. ‘Don’t want to hurry Sidney. See you in a moment.’

  He disappeared through the swing door and Tessa felt a moment of despair. She longed for him to put his arms round her, kiss her, tell her he loved her. Instead he was behaving as though he were a very nice elder brother.

  ‘What else can he do?’ she asked herself drearily. ‘Oh shit, hell, damn.’

  Giles watched her from the window, longing to rush out and seize her but knowing that he must hold back: his moment had not yet come. He pulled the cups closer and began to pour coffee for them both.

  Twenty-six

  ADRIAN PEARSON, HIS CAR parked in a lay-by in a quiet lane, was making calculations on a small pad. He raised his head, his brain busy, and stared unseeingly at a cow in a neighbouring field. He was doing very well indeed. Mentally he reviewed his list of victims and wondered which of them he should next approach. Mrs Carrington had nothing else of value but there were one or two others in this area … Adrian tapped his pen thoughtfully against his teeth. The Rainbirds had not yet contacted him. He frowned, turning the pages in the pad until he came to the inventory he’d made at the house in the cove. As he read it through, excitement began to mount; he couldn’t possibly let this one pass. He remembered the desperation which the old buffer had not quite been able to hide and wondered if he were still trying to overcome his scruples or his sentimentality for the pieces. The old bat had been ready to sell, he’d swear to it.

  Adrian gave a sigh of pure irritation and snapped his notebook shut. Maybe the time had come for a tiny nudge, a gentle reminder … He wondered what the old couple had said to Tessa—and did it matter? After all, they clearly needed to raise money and selling some family heirlooms was the obvious way to do it. He shrugged, flicked the book open again and picked up his mobile telephone. The woman answered almost immediately.

  ‘Ah.’ Adrian was caught slightly off balance. For some reason he had expected Mr Rainbird. ‘Hello. Miss Rainbird? It’s Adrian Pearson here.’

  ‘She’s not here,’ said the woman. ‘Who did you say it was?’

  Adrian was puzzled. ‘It’s Adrian Pearson. The antique dealer. I think we met when I came down to the cove.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said the woman. ‘Of course. Well, Tessa’s not here. Shall I take a message?’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ He laughed in a conciliatory way. ‘I do apologise. I thought that you were Miss Rainbird too, you see.’

  ‘My name is Beatrice Holmes,’ she said flatly.

  ‘Yes,’ he said awkwardly into the silence and cursing her lack of friendliness. ‘Well, I seem doomed to miss Tessa, don’t I? Uh … any other thoughts about the conversation we had? Any movement there? I’m in the area again for a day or two. I’d be very happy to pop over.’

  ‘I’m sure you know my feeling in the matter, Mr … er. My cousin, however, is full of the finer feelings and is having difficulty in bringing himself to the point. It’s only a matter of time.’

  ‘I see.’ Adrian’s spirits began to rise again. She might be an old cow but she was much easier to deal with than these dithering old idiots who wanted to hang on to their relics. He chuckled, trying to introduce a more friendly note into the proceedings. ‘Is he there? Would you like me to have a little chat with him? You know? Encourage him a bit?’

  The conspiratorial note seemed to soften her a little. ‘We-ell, it’s not a bad notion, I suppose. He has to be pushed into every decision he takes. Quite exhausting! I’m afraid he isn’t here at the moment. Perhaps you could try again later. Have we your telephone number?’

  ‘It’s on the card,’ said Adrian quickly. ‘The London office and my mobile. There’s no point in giving you my other number. I move around such a lot. Have you still got my card?’

  There was a pause whilst paper was shuffled about at the other end of the line. Presently her voice read out the number of his mobile telephone.

  ‘That’s it!’ he said cheerfully. ‘Excellent. Well, I’ll give you a bell later this afternoon, shall I? Meanwhile you can get hold of me on that number unless I’m with a client.’

  He switched off and stared out through the windscreen. It looked as if all would be well. ‘It’s only a matter of time,’ she’d said—and there had been no mention of Tessa. Adrian took a deep breath and beat the steering wheel lightly with a triumphant fist. He glanced at his watch. He had one other call to make and then he would be free. The old chap might be back by then and he could give him a nice gentle going-over; a hint that he might not be able to place the pieces if he didn’t have them soon; an indication that he might have to drop his offer because of other pieces he’d seen of greater value …

  Adrian put his notes into his briefcase, shifted in his seat and fastened his seat belt. With luck he might have the whole thing sewn up by this time tomorrow.

  ‘I GATHER THAT IT was my name that you were taking in vain?’ asked Will, placidly turning the page of the Kingsbridge Gazette at the kitchen table. ‘Was it our nice friendly crook?’

  ‘It was.’ Bea sat down opposite. ‘What are we going to do about him?’

  Will crossed his arms and brought his mind to bear on Adrian Pearson. ‘According to James, there’s nothing we can do,’ he said regretfully.

  ‘Nothing legal, perhaps,’ said Bea. ‘I know we can’t get him locked up but perhaps we could give him a good fright.’

  Will looked interested. ‘Got any ideas?’

  ‘Not yet,’ she admitted. ‘All this business with Tessa has put him out of my mind but surely if he knew that we know he’s a crook … ?’

  Will ran his hand through his hair and gazed into the middle-distance; Bea watched him with well-concealed affection. She tried to analyse these new sensations and decided that they were summed up in the word ‘contentment’. Her life with Will was without passion but it was deeply satisfying. He was companionable, but left her room to breathe, and his cheerful kindness made him an ideal person with whom to share her home and her life. It was hardly odd that she was barely able to contemplate a different existence.

  Bea looked about her. The French windows stood open to the balcony and the room was filled with bright trembling light. Sidney lay stretched out in the May sunshine and she realised that his presence was fast becoming as familiar as the gentle, persistent whisper of the sea. The cries of the gulls could be heard above the sound of the Morris jolting down the track. Isobel was home.

  Will, too, had heard the engine and straightened a little in his chair. He could not prevent the upward leaping of his heart at the thought of seeing her; dark, tall, eager. He hated to think of her being unhappy; longed to shoulder her burdens and surround her with his love. Sometimes he imagined her accepting that love, marrying him; would he ever have the courage to ask her? Sometimes, when her loneliness brought her across to the house to sit and talk or play Scrabble, he thought that he might. He knew that he had helped her with her grief and guilt about Mathilda but he was sure that she still loved Simon and that his marriage had hurt her deeply. So, too, had the continuing indifference of her daughter. Like Mathilda before him, Will knew that Isobel was happiest when she was needed.

  Sidney raised his head. He, too, had heard Isobel’s approach and his tail began to thump. He was happier than he had ever been, since his master’s defection, here in the cove and he padded in through the French windows so that when Isobel opened the kitchen door they were all waiting for her.

  Her hair was constrained by a twisted silk scarf and she wore a cherry-coloured T-shirt tucked into a long swirling skirt of navy and red, her waist clasped by a wide leather belt. She was carrying a bunch of narcissi in one hand and a bottle of claret in the other and she looked radiant. Will clamped hims
elf to his chair with both hands, lest he should leap up and embrace her, and it was left to Bea to say: ‘How summery you look. Goodness! Are they for me?’ as Isobel deposited the flowers beside her and held out the wine to Will.

  He freed his hands and took it, smiling at her. Something wonderful had happened to her, he could see that at once, and he wondered what could possibly make her look like a young girl in love. He was filled with a horrid foreboding. Perhaps Simon had come to his senses at last and wanted her back. Will stood up quickly so that she should not see the anxiety he was, for the moment, unable to hide and he was grateful for Bea’s calm voice asking Isobel what good fortune had blessed her.

  ‘Oh, it’s the most fantastic, unbelievable thing,’ she was crying as she sank down at the table and hugged Sidney. ‘You’ll never believe it. I can’t. I’ve waited so long.’

  Will kept his back to the table, pretending to fiddle at the draining board so that they should not see the sudden tremor of his hands.

  ‘Don’t keep us in suspense,’ Bea was saying. ‘We don’t know whether to offer you coffee or champagne. Not that we’ve got any. So what is this fantastic and unbelievable thing?’

  ‘I’ve been into Kingsbridge,’ she said, trying in vain to control the joy in her voice, ‘and I popped into the shop, just to give a message to Pat, and she had a letter for me. Oh, it’s just so amazing! I didn’t recognise the writing to begin with—well, it’s been so long—and I thought it might be a customer. Just occasionally they write to thank you for getting a book or something, so I just shoved it in my bag and went over to Somerfields. And when I’d done my shopping I was just sitting in the car getting my keys out and I saw the letter and opened it.’ She took a great breath, half laughing, half sobbing. ‘Oh, you’ll never guess. It’s from Helen. She couldn’t remember my address, you see, so she sent it to the shop. She’s written from Durham and she’s asked if we could meet. Oh, can you believe it? I feel that I might just burst into tears,’ said Isobel—and did so.