Authors: Marcia Willett
Summer House (7 page)
Looking back, he guessed that this was because his mother had been the one who'd left, and had felt guilty â and was trying to justify herself to her son â but he knew now that he'd simply been far too young to understand the complexities of adult relationships. He'd worked hard to sustain the fragile connection that remained between his parents.
Nick passed West Lynch Farm and suddenly turned aside, through a little wooden picket gate. He walked up the path that led to the small stone chapel, and let himself in. Sitting in the back pew he gazed upon the scene that was so familiar. Here he'd sat as a child with his father at Christmastime and at Easter, during holidays from boarding school, and more recently with his own children. The silence and the atmosphere of peaceful prayerfulness brought him unexpected comfort and he began to dread the moment that he must stand up and go back into the depressing reality of his life. He bent his head, trying to think of some appeal, some prayer that he might make, but the only word that came to his confused mind was âHelp'. He prayed it anyway. âPlease help me,' he muttered, then, after a little pause, he stood up and went out into the cold March evening.
During the night the temperature dropped below freezing and by morning the daffodils along the banks each side of the drive were weighted down by the thick frost, lightly iced like some exotic lemon pudding. Catkins hung like stalactites in the chill air.
Lottie stood at her bedroom window wrapping herself into her thick woollen dressing gown. Overnight a lamb had been born in the field below the house: a tiny grey-white form, like a stone on the ground, with two ewes standing over it. A jug-handle ear suddenly showed and then sank again into the huddle of skin and bone. A magpie landed nearby and the ewes faced up to it. It hopped closer and Lottie leaned from the window, flapping a shawl, so that it hesitated and then flew away. The two ewes gently nudged the inanimate form and now a crow flew in, landing near the little group, swaggering forward. Once again the ewes faced up to it, one of them making a little run forward, but it stood its ground and Lottie opened the window again, clapping her hands to frighten it away. But now, at last, the
lamb was on its feet, staggering, pitifully weak, and the ewes shielded its trembling body, bending their heads to nuzzle it. The magpie was down in a monochrome flash, seizing the bloody afterbirth in its beak, dragging it away whilst the disgruntled crow watched from a low bare bough.
lamb was on its feet, staggering, pitifully weak, and the ewes shielded its trembling body, bending their heads to nuzzle it. The magpie was down in a monochrome flash, seizing the bloody afterbirth in its beak, dragging it away whilst the disgruntled crow watched from a low bare bough.
Lottie stood at the window for a little longer, until she believed the lamb to be out of danger, and then went out of her room. She paused on the landing to look up the stairs that led to Matt's quarters in the attic; empty again now. It was odd that from his earliest visits Matt had claimed the attic for his own. Even as a small boy he'd loved the isolation and privacy of his eyrie whilst glad to know that the people that mattered to him were not too far away. Lottie and Imogen shared this staircase whilst Milo's bedroom was at the other end of the house with Nick's room and the spare room.
As she went down the stairs, through the parlour and into the breakfast room she wondered how Nick was feeling this morning. Supper had been a sombre affair: Milo in a quiet and rather uncommunicative mood, whilst Nick grasped gratefully at any conversational opening.
The trouble was, thought Lottie as she bent to receive Pud's morning welcome, that at times like these almost any subject was likely to lead eventually into dangerous waters. She'd cast around in her mind to find a topic that might not somehow refer to Nick's family or work and finally decided to sacrifice Matt's pride on the altar of social necessity. They'd talked about the difficulty of following a successful novel and a film with something equally good, if not better, and the pressure he was under. Nick had been sympathetic and thoroughly agreed with Lottie's idea that Matt needed a break away from London and the constant reminders of his failure to come up with the goods.
âHe's coming down again at Easter,' she'd said. âHe can't find a place to rent at the moment so he'll be here for a while. He'd like to take a couple of months off.'
She'd smiled at Nick, not actually seeking his approval but hoping that he wouldn't feel in any way dispossessed by the prospect of Matt being around for such a long time.
âI think it's a great idea,' he'd said at once. âPerhaps he'll find inspiration once he's away from all his usual haunts. I loved
Epiphany
. It's such an amazing book, isn't it?
The Lord of the Rings
meets
Harry Potter
. It's packed with images and plots and ideas. I should think he'd need years to write another one like that. Or perhaps he wants to do something different this time?'
Epiphany
. It's such an amazing book, isn't it?
The Lord of the Rings
meets
Harry Potter
. It's packed with images and plots and ideas. I should think he'd need years to write another one like that. Or perhaps he wants to do something different this time?'
She'd shaken her head. âI don't think he knows what he wants to do. He's trying too hard to come up with something. He needs time with Im and Rosie. Normal family life.'
âAnd his mum's death. He needs time to adjust to that, too. Poor old Helen. It's probably worse for Matt and Im that she had such a troubled life.'
She'd been touched by his intuitiveness, smiled at him with warm affection, and he'd smiled back; such a genuinely sad, little self-aware smile that she'd wanted to get up and go round the table to give him a hug. And then Milo had stirred, poured more wine and begun to talk about selling the Summer House. She'd tensed with trepidation but it was clear that this was not a new idea to Nick, and when Milo had suggested that he might let Im and Jules have it for a sum they could afford she could see that Nick was genuinely delighted.
It was also clear to see that Nick's ready generosity on Im's behalf had afforded Milo a grim kind of amusement. She'd been able to read his thoughts without difficulty; after
all, the only one who would be down on the deal would be Milo himself â but Nick was so relieved, so anxious to show himself willing for the sale of the Summer House to benefit Im and Jules, that it didn't occur to him to sympathize with his father's financial loss. Across the table she'd watched Milo struggling with himself, reminding himself that this was what he'd wanted to do in the first place before he'd known about Nick's dilemma, and finally resisting making any sarcastic observation that would humiliate his son further. She'd raised her glass to Milo then, silently acknowledging his private battle, and he'd understood and grinned back at her, admitting the temptation with a small, slightly shamefaced wink.
all, the only one who would be down on the deal would be Milo himself â but Nick was so relieved, so anxious to show himself willing for the sale of the Summer House to benefit Im and Jules, that it didn't occur to him to sympathize with his father's financial loss. Across the table she'd watched Milo struggling with himself, reminding himself that this was what he'd wanted to do in the first place before he'd known about Nick's dilemma, and finally resisting making any sarcastic observation that would humiliate his son further. She'd raised her glass to Milo then, silently acknowledging his private battle, and he'd understood and grinned back at her, admitting the temptation with a small, slightly shamefaced wink.
As she and Pud made the morning pilgrimage to the bird table, Lottie felt a lightening of spirits: the difficult moment was over and Nick was out of danger. She wondered how Milo would broach the subject of the Summer House to Imogen and tried to imagine her delight. A chill current of air shivered the stiff leaves of the rhododendron bushes and touched her cheeks; she huddled the collar of her long, knitted dressing gown higher around her neck and hurried back into the house.
Â
To the relief of all three of them, Nick left in the middle of the morning. Milo had made the necessary call to his bank and had written out a cheque, which Nick had accepted with incoherent mutterings of gratitude and promises never to do such a thing again. All three of them were embarrassed, none of them knowing how to say goodbye in a normal manner. It was clear that Nick was longing to be gone, however much he tried to convince them that this was solely because he needed to get the cheque paid in and the accounts finished.
Then, once he'd handed over the cheque, Milo had a sudden and violent resurgence of irritation at Nick's âcriminal stupidity' and made him promise that he would resign from the post of golf club treasurer. Nick, looking slightly injured, told him that he'd already decided to do that as soon as the moment was right.
Then, once he'd handed over the cheque, Milo had a sudden and violent resurgence of irritation at Nick's âcriminal stupidity' and made him promise that he would resign from the post of golf club treasurer. Nick, looking slightly injured, told him that he'd already decided to do that as soon as the moment was right.
Since this little scene took place in the breakfast room with Lottie present, she tried to smooth over the awkwardness by offering to make Nick a sandwich or some coffee before he went, but he shook his head, smiling at her, and went away to fetch his overnight case.
Milo looked uncomfortable, slightly regretting his outburst but resentful at having to feel remorse. Lottie grinned at him.
â“Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind”,' she quoted softly.
âShut up!' he muttered back, but they were both smiling when Nick came back into the room.
He looked from one to the other, his spirits lifting with relief, and they all went out together to the car.
âHonestly, though,' Milo said, still aggrieved, as they waved Nick off down the drive. âThat my son should behave so ⦠well, so
dishonourably
, dammit. I can still hardly believe it.'
dishonourably
, dammit. I can still hardly believe it.'
âHe genuinely meant to pay it back,' Lottie said gently. âHe told me that he was so horrified when he saw the size of his bonus that he was physically sick. Try to see it through Nick's eyes. It was as if he were simply borrowing it for a few weeks. That's how he saw it. I'm not condoning it, Milo, of course I'm not, but it wasn't the action of a criminal. We've all been tempted at some time, haven't we, and done things that other people might consider dishonourable?'
Milo opened his mouth to retort that he had never been in such a position, and shut it again, suddenly wondering how many of his friends saw his relationship with Venetia in the same self-forgiving light that he himself considered it. Perhaps some of them might well have considered that it was dishonourable to have an affair with his crippled friend's wife.
But it wasn't quite
like
that, he told himself defensively, and saw that Lottie was watching him with those strange eyes narrowed slightly as if willing him to make the connection.
like
that, he told himself defensively, and saw that Lottie was watching him with those strange eyes narrowed slightly as if willing him to make the connection.
âI might take Pud for a walk,' he said abruptly. âUp to the post office to get my pension. Anything you need?'
She shook her head. âI don't think so.'
He hesitated. âShall you tell Im about the Summer House? Or shall I?'
âOh!' She thought about it for a moment. âI imagined you'd want to. Whichever you like.'
âYou do it,' he said. âGo and see her and tell her that they can have it. You know what they can afford.'
âI'd like that,' she said. âI'll find Pud while you get your coat, and then I'll phone Im.'
Imogen was sitting on the sofa in the Cellar Bar of the Dunster Castle Hotel, a cup of coffee on the table before her and Rosie in the buggy beside her.
âCan we meet before I go back?' Nick had asked during his very hurried telephone call the previous evening. âYes, everything's going to be OK, thank God, but I'd love to see you if you can make it. Dunster? Great. Eleven-ish in the Castle? See you then.'
Now she watched the entrance to the bar and talked to Rosie, who was drowsy and relaxed, having been pushed up to the Conygar Tower in the brisk cold air and then bumped over the cobbles on a stroll around the town. Imogen smiled at Greyam behind the bar and wondered why her meetings with Nick always gave her a slightly guilty feeling. They'd known each other for nearly all their lives and there was no reason why they shouldn't have coffee or a drink together â yet there was a little edgy sensation going way back to that mad moment that they'd had ten years ago. For instance, she hadn't told Jules that she'd be seeing Nick this morning
â and she'd been oddly reluctant to explain to Jules exactly what Nick had been up to, merely saying that he'd got behind with his mortgage payments and that Alice was playing up about money. Not that Jules was all that interested; the new job was very demanding and he'd never had a lot of time for Nick.
â and she'd been oddly reluctant to explain to Jules exactly what Nick had been up to, merely saying that he'd got behind with his mortgage payments and that Alice was playing up about money. Not that Jules was all that interested; the new job was very demanding and he'd never had a lot of time for Nick.
Imogen shifted uneasily as three women came into the bar and settled themselves at the table in the corner. She wondered if Venetia ever came into the Castle for coffee with her chums and turned instinctively away from them towards Rosie.
âHi,' said Nick from behind her. âHi, Rosie,' and he held out a little toy, a soft, velvety rabbit.
Rosie reached eagerly for it, making sounds of delight that made Imogen smile.
âOh, darling,' she said to her child, âisn't that nice? Say, “Thank you, Nick,” or should we call you “Uncle Nick”?' she asked, glancing up at him and feeling embarrassed suddenly, now that he was here, trying to emphasize the family note.
âI'm not sure that I'm uncle material,' he was saying, sitting on the other sofa, which was at right angles, shielding her from the rest of the tables. âAm I, Rosie? Do you like him?' And he set the rabbit dancing, making Rosie chuckle.
Imogen poured him some coffee. âSo everything's OK?' she asked, keeping her voice low. âGosh, what a relief. Honestly, I'm just so thankful for you. And Milo didn't do the heavy father act?'
Nick shrugged. âA bit. But he was entitled to, wasn't he? Actually, he was brilliant.' He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. âHe's saved my life.'
âDear old Milo. So what will you do now?'
âI'm on my way home. I need to get everything sorted and,
anyway, it would have been a bit tricky to stay. You know what it's like, everyone a bit embarrassed? I'll come down again soon and try to be a bit more normal.'
anyway, it would have been a bit tricky to stay. You know what it's like, everyone a bit embarrassed? I'll come down again soon and try to be a bit more normal.'
âAnd what did Alice say?'
Nick drew back a little; his face was unexpectedly suffused with colour and she watched him curiously.
âI haven't told her yet,' he admitted reluctantly.
Once again, Imogen was seized with various sensations: that peculiar mix of triumph and shock; of pleasure at knowing more than Alice did; of being firmly on Nick's side.
âBut why not?' she asked, pretending indignation on Alice's behalf. âHonestly, Nick, she must be worried sick.'
He looked uncomfortable, even grumpy. âI'm just not looking forward to the conversation. She won't be pleased like you were. Not for me, anyway. She'll be thankful that we're off the hook, that's all. She won't give a damn about Dad and I'll get another earful, that's why.'
âOh, Nick.' She touched his knee lightly, then took her hand away quickly as he reached for it, and picked up the coffee pot. Rosie nodded sleepily, head askew, the rabbit still clutched to her chest. Imogen looked at her, her heart melting with love. Guilt twisted her gut. âBut you'll have to tell her, won't you?' she said rather briskly to Nick, refilling his cup.
âShe's with her mother for the next two weeks,' he said, as if that were some kind of answer. âOh, well, yes, of course I shall tell her. But it won't make much difference. I was wondering, Im, whether to come down again next week for a day or two. I'd planned a few days off, you see, to go down to see the kids but I don't think this will change anything as far as Alice is concerned and, anyway, I can't say I'm that keen on facing her parents just at the moment.'
She didn't look at him but reached to pull Rosie's rug more firmly over her legs. âI expect Milo would be pleased to see you.'
âI'd hate him to think I only come when I want something. Do you think it would work or is it too close to all this and he'll just be embarrassed?'
âOf course he won't be,' she said firmly. âMilo's not like that. And Lottie certainly isn't. Bring him a little present and take him out for a pint.'
He nodded. âI'd like to do that. And what about you? Shall I bring you a present and take you out for a pint, too?'
She laughed, keeping it light. âWhy not?'
They smiled at each other, warmed by their mutual affection. Nick was looking at her, as if he was wondering whether to tell her something, a strange excited look. She stared back at him, frowning.
âWhat?' she asked. âWhat is it?'
âYou know what I was saying about Dad having to sell the Summer House?' he asked. She nodded, eyes wide. âWell, he is going to sell it.'
âOh, Nick.' She looked sad. âOh, I'm sorry.'
âListen, though. Dad isn't sorry, and neither am I. He wants to sell it to you and Jules. At a price you can afford. He wants to, Im.'
âBut he can't do that,' she gasped. âHe mustn't. I mean, he can sell it, obviously â it's his house â but he must sell it at the proper price. Not to us.'
âBut he wants to,' Nick repeated. âHe looks upon you and Matt as part of the family, and it's a way of, well, you know, giving you something, just as if you were his daughter.'
âEven so. He shouldn't.' Im was in a state of shock. âI can't believe it.'
âI shouldn't have told you. I just wanted you to know that I'm absolutely delighted, just in case you thought I might feel ⦠well, you know.'
âBut your mum will be incandescent. She'll go nuts. After all, it's still your inheritance, isn't it?'
âThat's why I want you to know that I'm completely with Dad. I hope you're a good actress, Im. You'll have to pretend you don't know when Dad or Lottie tells you.'
âYou're right. You shouldn't have said anything.'
He looked disappointed and she knew that he'd wanted to have this share in Milo's generosity, to ameliorate his own foolishness by being able to attribute some good to it. As usual she responded to his hurt at once, stretching a hand to him and smiling.
âI shan't dare to believe it until Milo says something,' she said. âIt's too good to be true. I utterly love the Summer House.'
âI know.' He was holding her hand tightly, smiling back at her â and then Rosie woke suddenly, scrabbling for her dropped toy; she let out a howl, and the moment passed.
Â
As she drove out of Dunster through Alcombe, Imogen was filled with misgiving. Even if Milo did intend to offer her and Jules the Summer House she wished that Nick hadn't told her about it. She knew that she wasn't a good actress and she wondered how on earth she could pretend amazement at such kindness. She comforted herself by thinking that Milo would quickly repent of his first generous idea and nobody would ever mention it again â and was immediately seized with disappointment lest this might be true.
âDon't forget,' Nick had warned her as they'd said goodbye
in the car park, âyou don't know anything. We haven't met. Sorry, sweetie, but it seemed the best way.'
in the car park, âyou don't know anything. We haven't met. Sorry, sweetie, but it seemed the best way.'
They'd hugged and he'd driven away, but she'd felt slightly irritated by the fact that she would have to play-act her way out of it. Now as she drove through Tivington and passed below Selworthy Church, dazzlingly white in the bright sunshine, she came to a decision. She turned right into Allerford and continued along the lane into Bossington until she reached the drive to the High House. Milo's car was missing but Lottie came out to meet her, bending to smile at Rosie who stared back at her solemnly and then raised the little rabbit as if in greeting.
At the sight of the rabbit, Imogen's heart seemed to shift in her breast.
She thought: Thank God, Rosie can't talk. But this made her feel even more guilty and she turned quickly to Lottie, chattering about nothing in particular; how they'd been into Dunster and walked up to the Conygar Tower and then had coffee in the Castle, and decided just on the spur of the moment to come in and see how it was all going ⦠Suddenly she fell silent, thinking of all the things she mustn't say, pretending that she mustn't even know if Nick was still with them.
Lottie slipped an arm about her and kissed her.
âNick's gone,' she said, âand all is well. Can you stay to lunch? If you get Rosie out I'll bring the bag with all her things in. I expect you've got some milk for her, haven't you? Milo's dashed into Porlock but he won't be long.'
Imogen unclipped the straps and lifted Rosie out of her seat. She had a feeling that Lottie knew perfectly well that she and Nick had been in touch, she probably even knew that they'd met, and she felt uncomfortable. When they got
inside, Lottie fetched the folding playpen that was kept for Rosie's visits and set it on the floor near the wood-burning stove. Imogen plonked her down in it and Rosie sat on the padded floor, examining the rabbit â which now to Imogen's guilty eyes looked life-size â and murmuring her own peculiar words to it.
inside, Lottie fetched the folding playpen that was kept for Rosie's visits and set it on the floor near the wood-burning stove. Imogen plonked her down in it and Rosie sat on the padded floor, examining the rabbit â which now to Imogen's guilty eyes looked life-size â and murmuring her own peculiar words to it.
âBah,' Rosie muttered. âBah, boh, da.' She pressed the rabbit to her cheek and then with a swift movement flung it against the netting wall of the playpen. She shifted her weight and half shuffled, half crawled, towards a little rag book that hung from the rail.
âShe's had her milk.' Im busied herself with the bag full of nappies and juice and toys, hardly able to look Lottie in the face lest she should burst out with the truth. âBut I've got some lunch for her with us, just in case.'
âI expect you've heard from Nick,' Lottie said tranquilly. âYou're his rock at times like these, aren't you? He knows you're always on his side.'
Imogen was silent, her hands briefly stilled, replies jumbling together in her brain although she couldn't find one that was adequate.
âAnyway,' Lottie was saying, not waiting for any response, âMilo has found a way out for him. And it includes selling the Summer House.'
âOh!' cried Imogen, her head still buried in the bag. âOh, poor Milo.' She simply couldn't look at Lottie and she cursed Nick for putting her into this situation. âI'm so sorry.'
âWell,
he
isn't.' Lottie sounded almost amused. âHe's been trying to think of a way he could offer the Summer House to you and Jules at a reasonable price that was fair to Nick and wouldn't send Sara into orbit, and now Nick has provided him with the ideal solution.'
he
isn't.' Lottie sounded almost amused. âHe's been trying to think of a way he could offer the Summer House to you and Jules at a reasonable price that was fair to Nick and wouldn't send Sara into orbit, and now Nick has provided him with the ideal solution.'
Imogen raised her head, her cheeks scarlet, and stared at Lottie. The older woman began to laugh.
âPoor Im,' she said. âYou were never any good at dissembling, were you? Even as a little girl, with Matt threatening to murder you, you'd blurt everything out. So Nick's told you all this already, and that's fine. Perhaps he should have given his father the opportunity to tell you himself but since Milo asked me to tell you, anyway â¦'
âIt was just that Nick wanted me to know how pleased he was.' Im burst at last into speech. âYou know. He said that Sara would probably go ballistic but that he was absolutely thrilled. He just wanted me to know and to say goodbye ⦠How did you know?'
âOh, darling. Your face. You looked so guilty and miserable that I guessed at once. Poor Im. And he swore you to secrecy, of course.'
âWell, he did. He was so embarrassed about what he'd done, you see, and how generous Milo was being, but he thought it ought to come as a surprise to me when Milo told me. Honestly, Lottie, I can't take it in even now. I can't believe Milo could be so kind. Why should he be?'
âBecause he loves you. You and Matt are very dear to him. Nick's had lots of help and will inherit all this, and Matt's financially secure after his terrific success. Milo was looking for a way that he could help you and Jules, that's all. He knows how much you love the Summer House and that you need somewhere to live. You'll still have to raise a mortgage, you know. He's not giving it to you.'
âOf course not,' cried Imogen. âWe wouldn't want him to. It's just so ⦠amazing. Isn't it, Rosie?' She bent down and took Rosie out of the playpen, swinging her up into the air. âGosh, this child smells appalling. I'll take her up and change
her.' She hesitated, holding Rosie close to her, their faces almost touching. âAnd thanks, Lottie. I might have guessed, mightn't I, that you'd see straight through me?'
her.' She hesitated, holding Rosie close to her, their faces almost touching. âAnd thanks, Lottie. I might have guessed, mightn't I, that you'd see straight through me?'
Other books
The Sable Quean by Jacques, Brian
Going Wrong by Ruth Rendell
The Shells Of Chanticleer by Patrick, Maura
Untamed by Hope Tarr
My Holiday House Guest by Gibbs, Carolyn
04 Screaming Orgasm by Mari Carr
In the End by Alexandra Rowland
Wild Bear by Terry Bolryder
The Underpainter by Jane Urquhart
The Stone Warriors: Damian by D. B. Reynolds
