A Family Concern (13 page)

‘Honey, you can't go on like this – really you can't. You're getting paler and thinner by the week.
Why
won't you agree to see someone?'

‘Because I'm not having anyone messing with my mind! Anyway, what could I tell them? It sounds so pathetic, letting a dream upset me so much.'

‘But they might be able to find out what's causing it.'

Freya shuddered. ‘I'm not sure I want to know.'

She stood up abruptly. ‘Definitely no psychiatrists, Matthew. OK? Come on, it's over now. Let's go back to bed.'

Friday morning, the twenty-fifth of November. His birthday, and his last day at the bank. Not much work would be done today, but he'd arranged to go in about eleven and clear the final things from his desk. He'd then have lunch with senior members of staff, before making himself scarce until the farewell reception at six.

Tom showered, dressed, and put his pyjamas and wash things in his overnight bag. They were the last of his possessions remaining in the house, and he'd take them with him when he finally left in a couple of hours' time.

He'd be glad when this series of goodbyes was over. On Wednesday, he'd taken the train to London for a presentation at Head Office, which had been followed by dinner with the General Manager and his wife. Two managers from other branches who, like himself, were retiring, were also present with their wives, and as on Monday, Avril's absence was explained by a dose of flu. He'd travelled back the next day, with a new carriage clock in his case. There wasn't a clock at the flat, so it would come in useful.

Snapping his bag shut, he went down to breakfast, where he was taken aback to find a pile of envelopes beside his plate.

‘Happy birthday,' Avril said, and reached up to kiss his cheek.

‘Thank you.' He riffled through the envelopes, recognizing the handwriting in most cases before opening them. Nothing, he noticed with a heavy heart, from Lindsey. Avril had slipped a couple of envelopes among the others, one containing a birthday card, the other a retirement card.

‘Thank you,' Tom said again, unaccountably embarrassed. ‘That's very sweet of you.'

‘The girls are going with you this evening?'

‘Rona and Max are.'

She made no comment, and he wondered if she'd spoken to Lindsey about it. The two of them had always been close, as had he and Rona. Families, he thought; divided, we fall.

Avril laid a package on the table. ‘Just a little something to pass the time, since you'll be at a loose end.'

He looked at her quickly, unsure if she was joking, and her smile reassured him that she was. The package contained the latest novel by one of his favourite authors.

‘It's hot off the press,' she told him. ‘We had advance notice at the library.'

‘That's very thoughtful of you. I'll enjoy that.'

The phone rang, and she went to answer it, returning a moment later with it in her hand. ‘Rona,' she said.

‘Many Happies, Pops! How does it feel to be almost a gentleman of leisure?'

‘I'll let you know. Thanks for your card, darling.'

‘There's more to follow when we see you this evening. What are the arrangements?'

‘I have to be there by ten to six. I suggest we gather in the Clarendon bar at five thirty, and we can walk from there.'

‘Fine. See you then. Lots of love.'

Breakfast was finished and all the cards opened. In a few minutes, Avril would be leaving for the library. Better to go now, when she did, instead of hanging round here in the empty house. He could drive to the flat to drop off his bag. Self-consciously he collected the cards together and put them in his briefcase. In previous years, they'd been arrayed on the sitting-room mantelpiece.

The final moment of leaving, which he'd been dreading for weeks, had arrived. What could he say to her? He'd been trying to think of something appropriate, but conventional phrases such as ‘We must keep in touch' didn't fit the bill, since she'd indicated that she didn't want to. And he'd already given her his new address and phone number, to pass on as necessary.

In the end, it was she who took the initiative. As he hesitated in the hallway, overnight bag in hand, she said quickly, ‘You asked if we could be friends, Tom. I – would like to, after all.'

‘That's great, Avril,' he replied warmly. ‘When we've shared so much, it would be a shame if—'

He broke off, unable to go on. Quickly she put her arms round him and he drew her close with his free arm. How long since they'd stood like this? But now was not the time to look back. His throat tight, he bent his head and kissed her gently on the lips.

‘Goodbye, Avril. Thanks for everything.' And, thank God, he could say it after all: ‘I'll be in touch.'

As he turned for the last time out of Maple Drive, his eyes were full of tears.

Rona had tried to phone Lindsey the previous evening, to beg her to reconsider her boycott of the retirement party. There'd been no reply, and she'd left what she feared was an inadequate message on the answerphone.

That morning, she tried to reach her at Chase Mortimer, again without success. ‘Miss Parish is with a client,' she'd been told.

‘Please would you tell her her sister called, and I'm looking forward to seeing her this evening.'

‘I'll see she gets the message, Miss Parish.'

A plethora of Miss Parishes, Rona thought in amusement as she replaced the phone, and neither of them strictly accurate. Lindsey had reverted to her maiden name on divorcing Hugh, while Rona herself, to her parents' horror, had refused to give up hers when she married Max. ‘It's who I am!' she'd protested. ‘And also the name I use professionally.'

Perhaps the Fairfaxes had a point, she thought, remembering what Coralie had told her. And, thinking of Coralie, she reached for the envelope and albums she'd brought back the previous evening.

As she'd been warned, there was only passing interest in the photographs. The tiny Chinese girl grew bigger page by page, as exotic as an orchid in the pleasant, typically English company of her adoptive parents. She knew virtually nothing about this couple, Rona realized; only that they had loved and supported Coralie, helping her to forget her disturbed past, but ready to back her when she attempted to resurrect it. Did they, she wondered, fear that when she met Lena again, they might lose her for ever?

She opened the large buff envelope and drew out certificates, letters and search reports which, while confirming Coralie's story, added little to it. What she really wanted were photographs of Lena and Jim Chan, or Judith Craig – even Samuel – but, unless Lena had sent some from Hong Kong – and Coralie hadn't volunteered any – it seemed a vain hope.

With a sigh, she switched on the recorder and prepared to write her final article on the subject.

Since Max had no definite commitments on Fridays, he came back to the house at four to shower and change.

‘Did you manage to contact Lindsey?' he asked, pulling off his sweater.

‘No. I can't believe she's behaving like this, whatever she feels privately. It's like a slap in the face for her not to be there. Two lots of flu are too much to swallow.' Angrily, Rona tossed the dress she'd chosen on to the bed. ‘I think the best policy is not to mention her at all, at least to Pops.'

Max held his peace. Lindsey's behaviour didn't particularly surprise him; he'd formed the opinion some time ago that, unlike her sister, Lindsey Parish seldom considered other people's feelings, and nothing she'd done so far had changed his mind.

Tom was waiting in the bar when they reached the Clarendon, and had their drinks lined up on the table. Rona handed over his birthday present – a pair of gold cufflinks – and despite his profuse thanks and the general chat and laughter, Rona noted with a tug of the heart that his eyes kept straying to the door. I could
kill
her! she thought savagely. How
dare
she not be here?

And then, suddenly, she was. They all spun round as a laughing voice said, ‘Greetings, everyone! Happy birthday and happy retirement, Pops!'

Tom's face lit up as he returned her hug, took the parcel she handed him, and unwrapped an engraved silver hip flask.

‘I've never had so much valuable stuff in my life!' he joked. ‘Thank you so much, all of you, you've been more than generous. Now, Lindsey, let's see about getting you a drink.'

As he went purposefully to the bar, Rona said softly, ‘Thanks, sis.'

‘You should know by now that my bark's worse than my bite,' Lindsey replied.

‘We're going for a meal afterwards,' Max commented, hiding his annoyance with her. ‘As you know, Tom won't be joining us, but if you'd like to, you'd be very welcome.'

Lindsey flushed. ‘Sweet of you, Max, but I have a dinner date, thank you.'

‘Tweedledum or Tweedledee?' Rona asked facetiously, and Lindsey did not reply.

Rona did not enjoy the retirement party, though she could not have said why. True, there were few people she knew, and she was constantly on edge, anticipating questions about her mother. Also, it felt like the end of an era. For as long as she could remember, her father had worked in this bank, and the fact that he would no longer be doing so seemed to her an intimation of mortality. Which, she told herself roundly, accepting another glass of wine, was plain ridiculous. He was not an old man; on the contrary, he was about to embark on what promised to be a very happy phase of his life. But the fact remained that he had suffered two heart attacks, and no amount of self-rallying could raise her spirits.

The presentation was duly made – in this instance, a crystal decanter – and there was an elaborately wrapped present for ‘Mrs Parish, who, much to our regret, can't be with us this evening. Give her our best, Tom, and good wishes for a speedy recovery.'

Then, at last, they were free to go. They said goodbye to Tom, who was finding it difficult to break away from all the handshakes and back-slapping, thanked their hosts, and went out together into the cold and misty street. Across the road, the lights in Darcy Hall shone through the dark.

‘We'll be there ourselves tomorrow,' Rona told Lindsey. ‘We're going with Magda and Gavin to hear the
Messiah
.'

‘Say hello to them for me. Where are you eating this evening? Dino's?'

‘No, we're branching out. A new restaurant, at the far end of Guild Street.'

Lindsey looked at them sharply. ‘Serendipity?'

Rona started to laugh. ‘Is that where you're going with lover boy? Don't worry, Linz, we'll keep our eyes on our plates!'

‘“Of all the gin joints …”' Max quoted softly.

‘Very funny, both of you.'

‘How are you getting there?' Max asked.

Lindsey nodded across the road, to Market Street car park. ‘My car's over there.'

‘So is ours.'

They crossed the road together. ‘Lucky Tom's reception started early, or we'd have had trouble finding a place,' Max remarked, indicating the tightly packed cars. ‘It's always like this when Darcy Hall has something on.'

He stopped as they reached their car.

‘Mine's just over there,' Lindsey said.

‘See you later, then.'

The new restaurant was nothing if not sumptuous. The main floor was laid out like an Elizabethan knot garden, with a continuous waist-high partition snaking in and out around the tables, giving the illusion of privacy, while in the centre a table displayed the magnificent figure of a dolphin, carved out of ice.

On either side of the room stood a counter, one displaying raw meat and the other fish, and set into the wall behind each was a charcoal grill. Beyond the counters, two galleries, accessed by a few steps, stretched to the far end of the room. Most of the tables on them, Rona noticed, were already occupied.

‘Impressive, or what?' Max said sotto voce, as a waiter led them to their table. ‘Dino had better look to his laurels.'

The waiter seated them with a flourish, shook large white napkins on to their laps, and handed each of them a glossy menu.

‘The starred dishes,' he explained, ‘offer you the choice of selecting your own cut of meat or fish and having it grilled individually to your taste. The wine waiter will be along in a minute. Enjoy your meal.'

‘On reflection,' Max commented, ‘I'm not sure Dino need be too worried. Have you seen the prices?'

‘No, they're not shown on my menu.' Rona looked up, and was in time to see her sister hesitating just inside the door.

‘Here's Linz now,' she said flatly, ‘and look who's with her.'

‘Your ex-brother-in-law, as I live and breathe.'

Hugh, tall, pale-faced and red-headed, was following Lindsey down the room, and for a heart-stopping minute Rona feared they might be seated near themselves. Fortunately, though, their table was further down the room, and as they passed them, Lindsey gave an ironic little wave and Hugh, catching Rona's eye, nodded briefly.

‘Love you, too,' she said softly.

They ordered the wine and their first courses, and, having both opted for the grill, were advised to go up and make their selection.

‘They won't be ready until you've finished your first course,' the waiter explained, as he motioned them to the front of the restaurant, ‘but there are several orders ahead of you, and as it's cooked on a first come, first served basis, it's wise to place yours as soon as you've selected it.'

After studying the food on offer, Max elected to have lamb cutlets and Rona sea bass, and they were about to return to their table when the door behind them opened and Tom came in with Catherine Bishop. Even if they'd wanted it, there was no time to take avoiding action.

Tom was the first to find his voice. ‘Well, well, we meet again! Catherine, you know Rona, of course, but I don't think you've met my son-in-law, Max Allerdyce. This, as you'll have gathered, Max, is my fiancée.'