The Summer House Page 6

  ‘I hate this,’ Milo said grumpily. ‘I shan’t know what to say to him. I just have this feeling that I shall be irritated by him and want to smack him about a bit and tell him to pull himself together.’

  Lottie laughed. ‘Rubbish,’ she said. ‘You always say that. And then he’ll come in with that Hugh Grant “I know I’ve been a naughty boy” expression and you’ll give him a huge hug and pour him a Scotch.’

  Milo looked sheepish. ‘I’m very fond of the boy,’ he muttered.

  ‘Of course you are. I told Matt that pussycats don’t get to be brigadiers but I wonder, in your case, if they made an exception. Mind you, you can be as hard as nails with Venetia.’

  He whistled through his teeth, shook his head. ‘Venetia’s a dangerous woman,’ he said. ‘You have to watch your step.’

  Lottie drank some coffee. ‘She’s amazing,’ she said reflectively. ‘You know I have real difficulty in believing that she’s seventy.’

  Milo gave a crack of unsympathetic laughter. ‘So does she! Did you see those heels she was wearing last week? Tottering about like a duck on stilts. She’s going to break an ankle one of these days.’

  Lottie couldn’t help chuckling. ‘I take it all back. You are very cruel.’

  ‘Nonsense. I wouldn’t dream of saying it to her.’

  Lottie shook her head but said no more. She reflected that this was one of the good things about not being married. She felt no responsibility for Milo’s character; it was not incumbent upon her to reprove him or feel embarrassed by whatever he might say or do. After all, it was no reflection upon her. There was a great freedom within their relationship: none of those sulks or tempers that arose out of the questioning or doubting of love or rights.

  She got up from the table. ‘I’m going to get dressed,’ she said, and went away.

  Milo sat on for a minute, finishing his coffee, feeling more relaxed. Perhaps Nick’s problems wouldn’t be too serious after all. He stood up and began to clear the breakfast things.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  When Imogen hurried to open the door, hoping that Rosie hadn’t been wakened by the ringing of the doorbell, she was startled to see Nick standing outside.

  ‘Nick!’ she cried, and then automatically put her finger to her lips. ‘Rosie’s asleep. Come on in. What are you doing here? Did you get down last night?’

  ‘Haven’t been home yet.’ He followed her into the living room, glancing around, smiling his secret smile. ‘I wanted to see you first.’

  ‘Oh?’ She’d slid behind the breakfast bar and switched on the kettle, and now she turned to look at him, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Why?’

  He shrugged, still smiling. ‘Because we’re old friends. Aren’t we?’

  ‘Of course we are.’ She busied herself with mugs and teabags, disturbed as she’d always been by that secret smiling gaze. ‘But even so …’

  He hitched himself up on to one of the stools. ‘Well, I need all the friends I can get at the moment.’

  ‘Oh, Nick.’ She sounded exasperated. ‘Whatever is it this time? Has Alice really left you or is it just a sticky patch?’

  He leaned with both arms on the counter, not looking at her now. ‘It’s a bit more serious this time, Im.’

  She experienced a tiny thrill of fear. ‘Oh God, Nick. Have you been messing around?’

  ‘Not in the way you mean. There’s no woman involved.’

  He looked at her, and she knew that he’d seen and recorded the tiny inexplicable flash of relief; though why, after all this time, should it matter to her even if there were? She stared back at him; her stomach contracted and her hands were icy.

  ‘Well, that’s something,’ she said lightly. ‘Alice will be glad to know that.’

  His smile told her that he knew that she was glad too, and she turned away, confused, relieved to be occupied with the tea-making.

  ‘I’ve cocked up big time financially,’ he said. ‘Borrowed some funds from the golf club I’m treasurer for.’

  ‘Oh, my God …’ She turned back to stare at him, and he caught one of her hands. She made no attempt to resist him. ‘So what does that mean exactly?’

  His laugh was impatient. ‘Does it matter? Do you really want the details? I took some chances with money that wasn’t mine. A gross misjudgement. I was expecting to pay it back out of my end-of-year bonus but things are tricky in the City and I got only a quarter of what I was expecting. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to explain it to Dad but I really need some money very quickly.’

  Imogen drew back her hand, felt guilty and stretched it out to him again and he held it tightly. ‘I’m so sorry, Nick. Honestly. But I can’t see what I can do to help.’

  ‘At least you haven’t recoiled from me in disgust and shown me the door. I suppose I just wanted a bit of … oh, I don’t know. Affection? Friendship? Before I face Dad.’ He lifted her hand to his lips, kissed it lightly, and let it go. ‘You were always special, Im, you know that.’

  ‘It was a long time ago,’ she muttered, pushing a mug of tea across the counter to him.

  ‘But nothing was quite the same afterwards, was it?’ he asked.

  ‘We agreed,’ she said, not answering him directly. ‘We said that we were too close. Almost like brother and sister. We agreed,’ she repeated more firmly. ‘We were rather like Milo and Lottie.’

  ‘We weren’t a bit like Milo and Lottie,’ he said. ‘There was no family connection at all between us.’

  ‘We were brought up almost like brother and sister,’ she protested. ‘Or at least like cousins.’

  He watched her thoughtfully. ‘I’m right though, aren’t I? Nothing was quite the same afterwards. I’ve never been so happy, Im, as I was then with you.’

  She flushed. ‘It’s in the past, Nick. Ten years ago. And what’s it got to do with now? What will you tell Milo?’

  He took a deep sighing breath. ‘It’s going to have to be the truth, I’m afraid.’ He smiled at her expression. ‘Surprised? Oh, make no mistake, I’ve thought of every possible story that might be believable but even I can’t think of anything plausible. I just hope he doesn’t throw me out.’

  ‘You know very well that Milo would never do that.’

  He looked so desperate that her heart was wrung with anxiety and pity for him. There was no point in telling him what a fool he was; clearly he knew that well enough already.

  ‘Is Alice very cross?’ She’d never really much liked Alice.

  ‘She’s utterly disgusted with me,’ he muttered. ‘Said she couldn’t bear to look at me. I can’t blame her.’

  ‘But what made you do it?’ she asked more gently. She realized that she was feeling very slightly virtuous, more tolerant of his weakness than the upright, unforgiving Alice. Of course, she’d known him for ever; knew his weaknesses – and strengths.

  Nick swallowed some tea. ‘You have really no idea, Im, what it’s like to live in a very commercial society. Where even at the school gate you’re judged by your shoes, and your kids are likely to be losers if they carry the wrong pencil boxes, or if your skiing holiday isn’t in this year’s socially acceptable resort. The pressure is huge. Children’s parties are a competitive nightmare. I’d maxed my credit cards, got behind with the mortgage and I needed extra money; it’s as simple as that. The trouble is, you feel that you have to keep up with your friends.’

  ‘Then move. Live somewhere else, where those values don’t apply.’

  He laughed at her. ‘Will you be the one to tell Alice that she needs to change the habits of a lifetime? It’s what she’s used to, and I knew that when I married her. I thought I could hack it. It’s not her fault that I couldn’t quite cut it. If I can borrow some money quickly I can just about deal with it and she might – might – just bring herself to overlook it.’

  ‘How much, Nick?’

  He grimaced. ‘Twenty-three thousand?’

  ‘Jesus!’

  ‘I know. But I’m strapped whichever way I tu
rn when it comes to borrowing, and the mortgage can’t take another penny, so Dad’s my last resort.’

  ‘Is Milo likely to have that much spare? He’s only got his pension, hasn’t he?’

  Nick looked away from her. ‘He’s got the Summer House,’ he said reluctantly. ‘And Ma says that the tenants are about to move out.’

  ‘You mean sell it?’ She felt a pang of real grief. ‘Oh, Nick, that would be so sad. It’s always been part of the High House, hasn’t it?’

  He shrugged. ‘Have you got any better ideas?’ He put down his mug. ‘I must get on. They’ll be wondering if I’m OK. See you later?’

  ‘Of course. Let me know what happens.’

  ‘Thanks, Im. I mean, really, thanks.’

  She came round the end of the counter to give him a hug, feeling rather pleasantly compassionate and horrified, both at the same time. He put his arms around her and held her tightly.

  ‘Good luck,’ she said, releasing herself quickly.

  She hurried him to the door, shut it behind him, and stood staring at it. To her relief Rosie began to shout, and Im turned and ran quickly up the stairs.

  Nick drove slowly: he had no stomach for the meeting to come and, as he drove, he rehearsed the words that he would use to his father. In his heart he blessed Im for her partisanship; he’d never let his mother know just how fond of Im he was: even when they’d been small children she’d been determined to make him see Matt and Im as usurpers and he’d played along with it to please her. But Im had been such a sweetie, and she’d grown up to be a very pretty girl. The fact that none of the family had known about their tendresse had made it even more exciting: not even Matt had guessed. Nick almost smiled: it had been fun fooling them all. But he’d always had his suspicions about Lottie; that direct way she’d looked at him sometimes so that he’d been unable to meet her eye. Funny woman, his aunt Lottie; she wasn’t at all how one might imagine an aunt. He wondered whether he could count on her to support him; perhaps he ought to tell her first and let her break the news to Dad.

  Nick beat his fist lightly on the steering wheel and shook his head in disgust at the thought. But his gut turned to water as he imagined the coming interview. His father was so old school, so straight; though he’d always stood by him, always taken his side. Nick made a face. Of course, there had been a few occasions in the past when he’d been in disgrace: that shoplifting stunt when he’d been at boarding school, for instance, and a bit of a drugs problem at uni; but nothing really bad, nothing serious. Not like this.

  He groaned aloud in his despair. He’d give anything, anything at all, to turn the clock back. He slowed down as he approached the tollgate but there was no one in the booth. He wasn’t surprised, it was too cold to be standing about today – and too bloody cold to get out of the car to put the money in the slot and, anyway, he hadn’t got any change. He’d pay double next time. Meanwhile he drove on with a placatory wave of the hand to anyone who might be watching from the cottage window. Maybe they’d recognize him, and they’d understand.

  All the way down the winding road, through Allerpark Combe and into Porlock, he was thinking about Alice and the children.

  ‘Will you tell your parents?’ he’d asked diffidently.

  She’d given him the cool, contemptuous stare that seemed to be her habitual expression just lately.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I don’t think I could bear them to know just what a stupid immoral prat you are. If you can sort it then nobody except us will know. I certainly couldn’t go on if it became common knowledge.’

  Humiliated, he’d accepted all of her strictures: he had no choice.

  ‘If you had to do something so despicable at least the timing was good. The half-term fortnight’s been booked for ages so my parents won’t suspect anything. Except that you were going to get down to see us whenever you could. Well, you can forget that, I’m afraid. I shall invent some crisis for you. When you know what Milo says you can text me.’

  ‘Don’t forget,’ he’d wanted to cry defensively, ‘what the money was spent on. That two-week skiing holiday in Verbier, for instance, when you insisted on taking a chalet and inviting six friends as pay-back for hospitality, not to mention your new must-have Mercedes hatchback.’

  Of course, he’d said nothing: there were no excuses. Driving ever more slowly along Bossington Lane and into the village, Nick tried to brace himself: at least Im was on his side. He looked up at the High House standing up on the hill and with a sinking heart turned up the drive.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Milo came strolling out to meet him. He could see at once that Nick was stiff with apprehension, his face clenched and pale. All the older man’s irritation drained away, though his anxiety increased, and he put an arm around his son’s shoulders and hugged him.

  ‘Good trip?’ Stupid question: he knew quite well that the journey must have been hell. ‘Lottie is out with Pud but she’ll be back later. Like some tea?’

  He sensed Nick’s relief. It had been Lottie’s decision to be out when Nick arrived.

  ‘He’ll probably want to unburden himself at once,’ she’d said. ‘He’s always been like that, hasn’t he? It’ll be agony for him to sit around making polite conversation over the teacups. I’ll take Pud for a long walk and hope that you have enough time together before I get back.’

  Leading the way into the house, Milo felt unbearably nervous; he was too old, he told himself, for this kind of crisis. He felt vulnerable. He made tea while Nick talked rather aimlessly about the journey from London and tried not to get in the way; but as soon as he put the mug into Nick’s hand he wasted no more time.

  ‘So what is it?’ he asked. He knew that he looked severe and that his voice was brusque but it was the only way that he could manage to control his own nerves. ‘Sit down and tell me what’s happened.’

  Nick put his mug on the table – his hand was shaking too much to hold it – sat down and began to speak. It was clear that he had rehearsed the little recital but he stumbled through it – expenses to be met, afraid of not having enough to pay the mortgage, the school fees; of course, he’d planned to return the money out of his bonus … He mumbled on wretchedly and Milo watched him, at first with compassion, followed by disbelief and horror.

  ‘How much?’ he cried when Nick muttered the sum involved. And, ‘You bloody fool,’ he said almost dispassionately when Nick repeated it.

  ‘I know,’ he answered simply. ‘I know that, Dad. But I’ve nowhere else to go.’

  Milo thought about the expensive holidays, the school fees, the quantities of toys and the extensive wardrobes of Alice and her children.

  ‘Have you ever thought,’ he asked, ‘of saying “No” to Alice and the children occasionally?’

  Nick was clearly taken aback by the question. He considered it – and shook his head.

  ‘Part of the deal was keeping up with the lifestyle,’ he answered simply. ‘I really believed that I could.’

  ‘“Part of the deal”?’ Milo repeated disbelievingly. ‘Are you by any chance talking about your wedding vows?’

  Nick almost smiled. ‘I suppose you could put it like that. Alice is high maintenance and I knew that when I married her.’

  ‘But she makes no contribution to this must-have lifestyle? Couldn’t she get a job?’

  Nick actually laughed. ‘Alice? Work? What at?’

  ‘Surely she could train for something? She’s young enough. Can you think of any good reason why I, at my age, should use my hard-earned savings to pay for her extravagances while she does nothing? What about her parents? They’re a great deal better off than I am.’

  ‘She says that she doesn’t want them to know what a “stupid immoral prat” I am. I think those were her words. I have to deal with it or my marriage is on the line.’

  ‘So I have to subsidize your family’s high-maintenance lifestyle, Alice’s idle extravagance and your criminal weakness? You realize that what you’ve done is criminal?’

/>   Nick bit his lips, humiliated. ‘I promise I’ll try to pay it back. The trouble is – I haven’t got much time.’

  ‘How much time?’

  A short silence. ‘Two weeks,’ Nick answered reluctantly. ‘The books have to go in then.’

  Milo closed his eyes. ‘My God, Nick.’

  ‘I know,’ he said miserably. ‘I tried everything I could think of before I came to you … Good God, Dad!’ He smashed his fist on the table. ‘I didn’t want to have to do this.’

  Milo was unmoved by the outburst – Nick was inclined to become theatrical when the situation demanded it – but he got up and went to the drinks tray and poured him a small Scotch. Standing behind him while he drank it, Milo stared unseeingly down upon his son’s thick, fair hair. How could he help him? He dropped a hand on Nick’s shoulder, sensing his misery and humiliation.

  ‘What did your mother say?’

  Under his hand he felt Nick’s shoulder move in a shrug. ‘She’s furious with me but she blames Alice, which isn’t really fair. You’re right. I should have more courage and stand up to her now and then. The trouble is, I feel a failure if I can’t deliver, you see.’

  Milo involuntarily tightened his grip as his own sense of failure assaulted him. He’d made similar mistakes with Sara and because of it the marriage had broken down – with what damage to Nick? Quite suddenly the little scene dislimned and he was back nearly forty years, and this time it was his father sitting at the table staring at him with a shocked, disbelieving expression.

  ‘Divorce?’ he was repeating incredulously. ‘You and Sara want to divorce? But what about the child? And whatever will your mother say …?’