A Week in Winter: A Novel (46 page)

Posy made a face. ‘Dramatically. I’m hoping Aunt Daphne will take her mind off it this weekend. Do you think that’s likely?’

Maudie, still in a state of shock at Daphne’s revelations, wondered whether Selina also knew by now that Emily was her half-sister.

‘Yes,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that should be the case.’

Selina watched Daphne climb into the taxi, waved again and then closed the front door. Her overwhelming reaction was one of weariness;
she felt too tired even to think properly. It would have been better, once Daphne had told her this devastating truth, if she’d left at once. The most difficult thing had been to sustain a polite exterior through the whole of Saturday. It had been difficult for Daphne too, that was obvious, yet good manners had prevailed and they’d managed to get through the day somehow without sacrificing any of the rules of hospitality. Selina had been determined that she would not break down. Looking back, she could congratulate herself that she’d acquitted herself without too much loss of pride and she intended to keep it that way.

Once or twice Daphne had attempted to broach the subject again but Selina had managed to maintain a calm attitude which enabled them to discuss certain aspects, such as going out to Canada, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. It had been important to retain her sense of dignity. She’d made such a fool of herself at the outset. The sight of Daphne, hardly changed, standing on the doorstep had taken her off balance and she’d bawled like a child. Not that she should blame herself: what with Patrick, and now Posy, she’d had more than enough to upset her. Nevertheless, she wished that she’d been more controlled. It was simply that it had undermined her; Daphne had reminded her of those halcyon years of childhood and the unexpected jolt into the past had weakened her.

Selina went into the kitchen and sat down at the table, staring at the remains of their breakfast. Now that she was alone she could give her thoughts free rein, letting them run hither and thither, remembering, rejecting, pondering. Chin in hands, Selina frowned as she tried to create some kind of order out of the chaos. What was odd was that, terrible though Daphne’s revelations had been, her observations about darling Mummy seemed even more shocking. Of course, Daphne was bound to try to shift the blame. She’d as good as confessed that she’d tempted Daddy when he was alone and feeling down, and she’d admitted that he’d always felt guilty about it, even when he’d been dying. Remembering, Selina felt a twinge of remorse. She’d been so sure that it was Maudie he was regretting and now it seemed that it was an affair with Daphne for which he’d been asking forgiveness. How terrible for him to have carried such guilt all those years but he’d only had himself to blame. It was ridiculous to hint that it was Mummy’s fault. Mummy had been wonderful; always so good-tempered, so available, so … so
motherly.

Selina shifted, folding her arms beneath her breast. It was so typical of men to want you to have their babies but expect you to go on behaving
like some kind of sex symbol. They should try looking after children all day long! Mummy had done wonderfully well; the house was always run beautifully, spotlessly clean, meals on time, everything orderly.

‘Sounds very businesslike,’ Daphne had said. ‘The perfect wife and mother. Rather like a job description, isn’t it? But it tends to leave out the messy, human bits.’

Was this why Patrick had turned to Mary—because she, Selina, had been unable to fulfil some essential need? Could it possibly be true that, through some lack on her part, Patrick had looked elsewhere for comfort? Surely the lack was on Patrick’s part. If there had been inadequacy it was his, not hers. Yet Daphne’s words stuck like a burr beneath the skin.

‘Nobody walks out of a happy, loving relationship voluntarily.’

The words ‘happy, loving’ were, even she was forced to admit, not ones that she’d necessarily apply to her marriage. She’d never been a one for all that lovey-dovey business and it had been
necessary
to keep Patrick in line, to make him aware of the sacrifices she was continually making. Being cheerful and happy was all fine and good but pretty soon people took you for granted and you got no gratitude. A tiny memory struck into her mind. Despite Mummy’s good-temper there had, on reflection, been the tiniest air of long-suffering about her; little sighs escaping and a particular expression of… what? Of patience, of private suffering, nobly borne …

Selina got to her feet; the sudden movement instinctively rejecting such heretical thoughts. If Mummy
had
been long-suffering she’d probably had plenty to be patient about. It couldn’t have been easy, moving from pillar to post, all that entertaining, two children to look after, whilst Daddy at the first opportunity was unfaithful with her best friend and remarried barely a year after she’d died.

Clearing the table, preparing to wash up, Selina wondered what Emily had felt, suddenly discovering that Philip wasn’t her father after all; finding that her real father had never acknowledged her. At least Daddy had not been prepared to break up his own family for his illegitimate child. He’d loved Emily—everyone had loved Emily—but she, Selina, and Patricia had come first. She was able to feel sorry for Emily, able to go on loving her. Emily had been the victim and could not be blamed. Yesterday, Daphne had shown her the photograph of Emily’s little boy, Tim. It had been a shock to see him looking so like Posy; so like Daddy in the photos taken when he was small. Any comfort she might have taken in believing
that Daphne might be lying was destroyed in that moment. It was odd how that photograph had moved her: it might have been of her own child.

‘Come out and see us,’ Daphne had said, then. ‘Come and meet Tim. Emily would love to see you again. Won’t you think about it?’

And, still staring at the photograph, Selina had said that she would.

As she plunged her hands into the hot, soapy water the telephone rang. Cursing, she snatched a tea towel and went to answer it, still wearing her rubber gloves. It was Patrick.

‘I wondered if you might want to talk about Posy,’ he said, after a rather awkward greeting. ‘It must have come as a bit of a shock.’

Hastily Selina gathered her rags of pride about her.

‘Obviously,’ she answered coolly. ‘I’m really concerned that she seems intent on abandoning any ideas of a career. But then some members of this family don’t have much staying power.’

‘Well, it was just a thought.’

There was so much resignation and finality in his voice that she clutched the receiver tighter, regretting her sharp remark …‘Philip was rather like Hilda. Punctilious, proper, but there was no warmth …’ Had she ever been warm or loving to Patrick?

‘Daphne’s been staying with me.’ She spoke at random; anything to keep him from hanging up on her. Suddenly she knew that she could not possibly admit her father’s indiscretions to Patrick; it would almost be as if she were condoning his own behaviour. ‘She’s invited me out to Canada.’

‘Really?’ His voice was warm with the acknowledgement of Daphne’s generosity. ‘And are you going?’

‘Yes, I think so.’ She managed a nice casual note. ‘I don’t see why not. I haven’t seen Emily for years. Apparently she’s running this very successful cooking business and I thought I might pick up a few tips.’

‘She was such a sweetie.’ He sounded so affectionately reminiscent that Selina was brought up short. Clearly remembering Emily was more important, more pleasurable, than asking why she should require any tips. If she thought that he might show an interest she was disappointed. ‘Sounds like a great idea, Selina. Anyway, Posy is arranging for me to meet Mike. Have you met him yet?’

‘No.’ How she wished that she could have said ‘yes’, been the first. ‘Not yet. I’d rather she wasn’t marrying a divorced man with a child, but you know Posy. I’m sure my point of view will be ignored.’

‘She sounds very much in love. That’s how it was with us, remember? Luckily you were within a month or two of finishing your course at Miss Sprules’. I’m not sure we’d have wanted to be sensible and wait, are you?’

She swallowed. How underhand of him to speak of such a thing now; to make her remember …

‘Daddy wouldn’t have allowed us to marry if you’d been divorced with a child.’

She spoke with difficulty and he laughed softly.

‘Oh, I don’t think old Hector would have stopped us. He was a big man, Hector. There was a generosity about him and he knew all about passion. Hector wasn’t the sort who forgot what it was like to be young.’

She was breathless with surprise and indignation. She did not need Patrick to explain her father to her—and in such terms.

‘He liked things to be done sensibly …’ Even as she spoke, she faltered. Had her father behaved sensibly with Daphne, leaving his child to be raised by Philip?

‘Perhaps. Anyway, Posy’s twenty-two and Hector’s granddaughter. I think we may have to give in gracefully. Aren’t you pleased about Moorgate? You were so miserable about it going out of the family.’ He chuckled. ‘It all sounds quite extraordinary to me. However, I can see that I have forfeited all rights to comment so I just feel very lucky that Posy wants me to meet Mike. Poor Selina. You must be feeling just the least bit gob-smacked.’

She longed to reject his pity yet she needed it.

‘I’m managing.’

‘I’m sure you are. Let me know if you need anything—’

‘I was wondering,’ she broke in quickly, ‘if we might have a chat after we’ve both met Mike. After all, you
are
her father. I should be glad of your input.’

‘Thank you,’ he said, after a short pause. ‘That’s very … generous of you, Selina. I should appreciate it.’

‘Well, then.’ She felt almost ridiculously light-hearted, as if some great point had been gained, some unselfish action achieved. ‘We’ll stay in touch then, shall we? I don’t quite know when she’s bringing him to stay.’

‘Me neither. If I haven’t heard from you in a few days I’ll give you a buzz. How does that sound?’

‘It sounds fine. And thanks for phoning, Patrick. How … how are things with you?’

‘It’s tremendously hard work but terribly satisfying. It’s being a real eye-opener. So what’s this about professional cooking, then?’

She felt a strange desire to burst into tears. ‘Oh, just an idea I had. I don’t want to sit about being useless. We’ll be in touch then. ‘Bye.’

She replaced the receiver and went back to the kitchen, feeling quite strangely happy. The washing-up water was cold and greasy but somehow it didn’t really matter after all.

Several weeks later, Posy and Mike sat at the window table in the Mill. They were on their way to Cornwall and Mike had spent the night at The Dolphin and renewed his acquaintance with Maudie.

‘You were right,’ he said, as he stirred his coffee. ‘Your mother was much more intimidating. Maudie’s a sweetie. I really like her.’

‘It’s weird, actually,’ said Posy thoughtfully. ‘Mum wasn’t too bad, after all. I thought she’d be much worse. She was kind of muted, I thought. Having Aunt Daphne to stay must have loosened her up.’

‘Then please give my thanks to Aunt Daphne. I’m sorry I missed her.’

‘She’s gone back to Canada, now, but it was great to see her. She’s really cool. One day we’ll go out and see them all. Or better still, they can come and stay with us at Moorgate. That would be brilliant. Just like when we were all little. I can’t believe Mum’s going out to stay with them. I know she always had a soft spot for Emily but it was a real surprise. Poor old Mum. I feel a bit guilty now she’s been quite good about it. And Dad’s given us his blessing. No backing out now.’

Mike smiled at her. ‘Your father was really nice. I rather admire what he’s doing but I hope he’ll come and visit us too. But not while I’m writing. They’ll all have to wait until I’m between books.’

‘We’ll have big parties.’ Posy sighed contentedly. ‘Lots of quiet and then big celebrations. It’s going to be so good.’

‘I can hardly believe that you sat here with Melissa.’ Mike looked out across the river, over the thatched roof of the pub, to the high slopes of the
moor beyond. ‘She didn’t want to break her journey but I insisted. We chose Bovey Tracey because it is the gateway to the moor. It’s quite incredible.’

Posy watched him. ‘It was a busy morning,’ she said. ‘This was the only table left. She watched the birds and I showed her the book. People write down what they’ve seen and some make funny remarks.’ She paused, reaching for the diary. ‘There’s a nice entry a man wrote about his wife and I showed it to her. I wonder if I can find it.’ She turned the pages and, after a moment or two, gave a cry of triumph. ‘Here it is.’

She passed the book across the table and sat back, looking about her. She remembered how she’d had tea with Hugh here, weeks ago, and told him about her father. How kind he’d been then. She knew now that her feelings for Hugh had been a young girl’s infatuation: a trying of the wings, a testing of the water, but she was still very fond of him. She’d gone riding with him a few weekends back and told him about Mike. She’d been fearing family opposition then, afraid that there would be a fuss about her giving up all idea of a career of her own. He’d listened with his usual attention and then he’d laughed.

‘You’ve come to the right person this time,’ he’d said. ‘I had a terrible fight on my hands when I wanted to give up university and join Max. My parents were furious, especially my mother. I stuck it out, though. I was just twenty-one and I dug my heels in. I knew it was right and I went for it and I’ve never regretted it.’

‘I’m twenty-two,’ she’d said. ‘I’m old enough to know what I want. I won’t let them get me down.’

He’d smiled at her. ‘That’s my girl,’ he’d said. ‘
Omnia vincit amor.
Believe it.’

‘What does it mean?’ she’d asked—and he’d laughed.

‘You sound just like Max,’ he’d said. ‘It means “Love conquers all things”.’

He’d looked rather sad suddenly and she remembered that his girlfriend, Lucinda, hadn’t loved him enough to live with him on the moor and then she’d felt guilty because she was so happy. She’d hugged him just before she’d left.