A Week in Winter: A Novel (29 page)

‘Now, what shall we have?’ he’d asked, beaming at Sue, winking at Chris. ‘What would you like, darling?’

‘I’d like to be in a decent restaurant,’ she’d said icily, disdainfully, ‘with decent people. Can you explain to me, can you just tell me, what on earth made you think that I’d like a place like this?’

She could remember the reaction—Chris’s look of fear, Sue’s embarrassment, Patrick’s misery, Posy’s rage—and her own fierce elation, the sense of power. That’s when Posy had made her remark and the others had pretended to study their menus, trying to ignore it, but the day was ruined. Yes, she’d always enjoyed being able to subdue her family with a look but it was being borne in relentlessly upon her that soon there would be no one left to be impressed by that practised curl of the lip. The boys were already beyond her influence, their wives had seen to that, and Posy had never been truly cowed by it. Only Patrick had remained affected—until now. Now her power was going, she was losing control, and she was frightened; frightened and angry. She simply couldn’t believe that Patrick was serious. This was the most alarming development—that Patrick was utterly unaffected by her. He was unmoved by rage, by contempt, even by a more gentle approach. He remained remote and detached—and unbearably, infuriatingly happy.

‘I’ve given in my notice,’ he’d told her jubilantly, ‘and it’s been accepted. I have the feeling that perhaps I wasn’t so discreet as I might have been over Mary and they’re pleased to see me go without a fuss. If they can find a replacement I shall leave at Easter.’

‘Easter?’ She’d goggled at him, her fury at his casual mention of the little tart overborne by shock. ‘You’re leaving at
Easter?
’

‘Why not? Why wait? Don’t worry. I shall only take a few books and some clothes. Have you thought what you might do?’

‘Is it any of your business?’

‘Not really.’ He’d shrugged cheerfully. ‘I’m sure you’ll cope. I’m going
down to see Posy on Friday. I guessed from my conversation with her that you haven’t told her that I’m leaving. Why not? You were quick enough to tell her that I was an adulterous bastard.’

She’d been speechless. This was a Patrick she’d never known and she had no idea how to handle the situation.

‘What should I tell her?’ she’d said contemptuously. ‘That you’ve found another little tart in Brecon?’

‘If you call people with learning disabilities “tarts” then I suppose that’s about the sum of it. You know exactly where I’m going, Selina, and why. You’ve looked through all my papers and I’ve made no secret of it.’

‘And what will those people think when they find you’re abandoning your wife on some selfish, quixotic whim?’

‘I’ve explained my position truthfully and they’re prepared to give me a try.’

‘You’re such a hypocrite,’ she’d shouted. ‘You’re beyond contempt. Pretending to be so holier-than-thou whilst betraying me and then abandoning me after nearly thirty years of marriage. How will you feel when I tell our friends that?’

‘How will
you
feel?’ he’d asked quietly. ‘Happy, content people don’t walk out of loving relationships. How will
you
explain it, Selina?’

She’d had no answer for him. Already she’d shied away from telling even her closest girlfriends that Patrick was leaving her—especially for such a cause. How much easier to paint him as a weak philanderer! Almost she wished that she’d let him go to Mary. It would have been so much easier, as the injured wife, to gain sympathy. This was quite different; it was humiliating. Selina stared at herself, panic rising. Furiously, she seized a bottle and began to apply her make-up.

Later on in the morning, the west wind brought warmer weather and the thaw began. Snow fell from the trees in huge slabs, crashing to the ground, dripping from the gutters. A tractor passed up the lane, turning the soft ice to slush, and, on the higher slopes, the drifts melted away into a thousand rivulets of sparkling water.

‘I shall be able to go tomorrow, after all,’ said Melissa, watching as the moor dazzled in the bright sunshine. ‘No excuse now.’

For these few days she’d been able to believe that she might never leave, that the dream would become a reality. She glanced at Rob, who was
bravely resisting the urge to persuade her not to go, to sort everything out by telephone, and smiled at him.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘We’ve been through it all before. I know you have to go. I just don’t want to think about this as our last day.’

‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘Oh, no. Neither do I. Oh, Rob, we mustn’t be miserable.’

She sounded so suddenly desperate, so unhappy, that he shelved his own feelings and put his arm round her. These four days had been a step out of the world and it would be very hard to go back to the normal everyday.

‘We won’t be miserable,’ he assured her. ‘We’ll take the pick-up and go and forage. It’ll be a bit slippy but a bit of an adventure. If the tractor’s managed to come up from the village, we should be able to get down. How about it?’

‘Oh, yes.’ She rubbed her cheek against his sleeve. ‘That sounds fun. I’m nearly out of chocolate.’

‘Well, we can’t have that. We’ll stock up for this evening and cook ourselves a slap-up meal.’

‘Great.’ She sighed contentedly and then looked at him more seriously, slipping her hand into his. ‘Rob, I think you should telephone Ned Cruikshank and make an offer. He’s left several messages on your mobile and I think it’s only fair. Today is his last day, after all. Tell him you’ve got the spare keys and that we want to buy Moorgate and then he can phone Lady Todhunter.’

‘You’re absolutely certain?’

She nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking about it and I’m quite certain. The money won’t be a problem, I promise, and I want to be sure that the house is … ours.’

He took a deep breath. ‘That’s fantastic’

‘Once the offer is accepted we’ll have time to breathe,’ she said, trying to sound casual, hoping to forestall too many questions. ‘I’ll sort things out quickly when I get back. A girl I was at law school with works at a practice in Truro. I’ll get her to do all the legal stuff. OK? And as soon as I know where I am work-wise I’ll let you know. We’ll stay in touch by mobile, shall we? I may have to stay with friends while I wind up at the practice but you’ll always have my number.’

‘I suppose so.’ He didn’t sound too happy. ‘But I wish we could be a bit more definite.’

‘Ned Cruikshank will be surprised, won’t he?’ She tried to distract him. ‘To hear that you’re going to buy Moorgate, I mean.’

‘
We’re
going to buy it,’ he corrected her. ‘Not nearly so surprised as Lady Todhunter will be.’

‘Do it,’ she insisted. ‘Telephone him now. It would be too awful if someone who’d seen it earlier pipped us at the post. Go on, Rob.’

‘OK.’ He kissed her quickly. ‘I’ll do it now, before we go out.’

‘Fine.’ She released him. ‘I’ll go and get my coat.’

Upstairs, she sat down on the window seat for a moment. She felt terribly tired and very weak but quite determined to make certain that Moorgate should be Rob’s. Nothing else mattered now. It was all that she had left to give him. He had made her happier than she had ever been, enabled her to forget the horror that lay ahead, given her the opportunity to have some kind of stake in the future that she would never see. Soon, quite soon, he would be able to put these few days aside—to remember them always, yes, but begin to build a new life for himself here at Moorgate. She could give him that, at least: the chance to live in the house he loved more than anything in the world.

Downstairs in the kitchen, waiting for Ned to answer the telephone, Rob was thinking how odd it was that, now that he was able to make an offer on Moorgate, the house mattered less than it had ever done before. Since Melissa had come into his life, so dramatically and unexpectedly, everything else had taken second place. His passion for Moorgate had paled before his love for her. He knew now that, as long as they were together, he wouldn’t really mind too much where they lived. She was so special, so rare, so utterly beloved, that he couldn’t imagine life without her now. Moorgate was a bonus, no doubt about it, but she was all that mattered.

‘Hello, there.’ Ned’s breathless voice broke into his thoughts. ‘I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. What weather! Are you OK?’

‘Very OK.’ Rob was smiling. ‘Hold on to your hat, Ned, I’ve got a bit of a surprise for you.’

Maudie kicked off her gumboots at the back door and hurried into the living room to pick up the telephone receiver. As she placed her hand upon it the bell was abruptly silenced.

‘Damn,’ she said crossly. ‘Damn and blast. I do find that so annoying.
Don’t you dare come in here, you wretched animal, until I’ve wiped your paws.’

Whilst Polonius submitted to having his feet dried, Maudie decided that one of the advantages of living with a dog was that you could talk out loud to yourself without being considered odd.

‘There,’ she said. ‘That’s that, then. Thank goodness it’s warmed up and we can get out for a good walk again. Move over, you great lump. That’s it. Now the back ones. Good! There you are. All done.’

She hung the towel to dry and filled the kettle. Just as she was reaching for the teapot the telephone began to ring.

‘Curses!’ she muttered. ‘Don’t you dare hang up. Yes? Hello?’

‘Lady Todhunter?’ Ned Cruikshank sounded quite jubilant. ‘It’s me. Ned. Terrific news. We’ve had an offer for Moorgate. A very good one.’ He named a figure. ‘I think you’ll be happy with it.’

‘I am indeed. That’s wonderful, Ned. Is it the woman you were telling me about?’

He started to laugh. ‘You’ll never believe this.
I
didn’t. It
is
the girl I told you about but it’s Rob Abbot, too. They’re buying it together.’

‘You mean she’s an old friend? What an odd arrangement. Of course, I know he loves the house …’

‘Well, actually, it seems he’s only just met her. It was love at first sight and they want to live at Moorgate.’

‘Good grief! Isn’t that rather sudden? I do hope Rob knows what he’s doing. He’s so level-headed and … well, sane.’ Suddenly she remembered her first meeting with Hector, the way they’d looked at one another, and she smiled to herself. ‘It sounds wonderful. I hope they’ll be very happy. I shall go down to see him and meet her.’

‘She’s an absolute sweetie.’ He sounded confiding, rather breathless as usual, and she felt an absurd surge of affection for him.

‘I’m going to miss you, Ned,’ she said. ‘I hope you do splendidly in London.’

‘So do I,’ he said. ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am to bring this one off, Lady Todhunter. It’s the icing on the cake.’

‘Bless you,’ she said warmly. ‘And Ned? Make sure you get that commission.’

‘I will.’ He was laughing. ‘The office will be getting in touch and all the wheels will grind into action but I’ll tell Rob you accept his offer, shall I?’

‘You certainly may. Tell him I’m delighted. Many thanks, Ned, and good luck.’

She replaced the receiver and stood for a moment, lost in a reverie. The relief was very great but there was a measure of sadness, too. She remembered the summer she’d spent there with Daphne and Emily, and the baby Posy. How happy they’d been. Maudie sighed as she went to make her tea, hoping she’d made the right decision.

She thought: At least it solves the problem for Patrick. Perhaps now Selina can forget Moorgate and she and Patrick will be able to make a new start.

It was terrible to leave him, to drive away down the lane, letting him believe that she’d be back soon, waving cheerfully. Only the thought of Mike, waiting for her in Oxford, and all the arrangements yet to be made regarding Moorgate kept her steady. There was still a great deal to do, to be organised, and, as she conned it over in her mind, she was able to maintain some kind of composure. She felt tired—and the further she travelled from Rob and Moorgate so the weariness increased—but she knew that the greatest danger lay in the depression which hovered, which waited to convince her that there was no point in making any effort now; that there was nothing to try for, nothing to keep hope alive. Whilst she’d been with Rob at Moorgate she’d managed, for gloriously happy stretches of time, to believe that a miracle might happen. His love had strengthened her, his need had made her strong. His ignorance of her physical condition had allowed her to imagine that it did not exist. Now, without his vitality to warm her, his happiness to give her courage, the chill in her bones seemed to creep around her heart and weaken her. Even holding on to the steering wheel was an effort.

Nevertheless, she knew that she must not, this time, stop for the night. If once she broke her journey to sleep she feared that she might never find the energy necessary to start off again. No, she must keep going, making do with short breaks for coffee. Mike, she knew, would be angry with her but he would be too relieved to see her to be cross with her for long. She considered turning off the A38 for a break at Bovey Tracey, half wondering
if she might see Posy again, but decided against it. This time it would be different: the window table would be occupied by other people and her holiday feeling would be woefully absent. Better to remember things as they had been on that sunny morning. It was dangerous to go back; it invited disappointment. She could hardly believe that only a week had passed since she’d wandered in the town, browsed in the bookshop, and talked to Posy. Melissa wondered if Posy would ever see the message she’d written for her and remembered the odd feeling of warmth and friendship she’d felt for her. How she wished she could turn back the clock and be starting out again on her Moorgate adventure.

She swallowed down the treacherous tears and glanced at her watch. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be at home for tea. She decided that when she was very nearly at Oxford she would telephone Mike. By then it would be too late for him to worry about her but he would have a chance to make any preparations he considered necessary for her arrival. It would be wonderful to see him and Luke. Concentrating on this, looking forward to hot coffee at Taunton Deane, Melissa drove on.