Breaking the Chain (30 page)

‘Have you been hoping all this time that he’ll miss you and want you to go home again?’ Fay asked.

‘Not really,’ Phoebe said with resignation. ‘With Duncan it’s out of sight; out of mind.’

‘I always think,’ Fay said, ‘that indifference is worse than abuse, although you seem to have suffered both.’

Phoebe blushed. ‘Actually, the black eye was my fault,’ she admitted. ‘I was trying to hit him.’

Fay burst out laughing. ‘Well, you had me fooled,’ she said.

At that moment the bedroom door opened and Jack came in, rubbing his eyes.

‘Stop laughing,’ he said. ‘It’s not f-funny.’

‘What isn’t funny, darling? And why aren’t you asleep?’

Jack shook his head and climbed up to join them, crawling over Phoebe until he could slide himself into bed between them.

‘One, two, three in bed,’ he counted with satisfaction.

‘That reminds me of a song,’ Phoebe said, and began singing it:

‘There were ten in the bed, and the little one said,
“Roll over! Roll over!”
So they all rolled over and one fell out.
There were nine in the bed and the little one said.
“Roll over! Roll over!” ‘

Phoebe sang down all the numbers to one in the bed and ended up with:

‘There was one in the bed and the little one said,
“Goodnight!” ‘

‘Sing it again!’ Jack demanded, delighted. He cuddled up next to her and Phoebe could feel the warmth of his chubby little body through her nightdress, punctuated every so often by blows from his constantly fidgeting elbows and heels. She looked down on his charming baby face with its perfect skin and
long eyelashes, and wondered what it would be like to have one of her own.

She sang the song all through again and Jack joined in with the numbers, getting most of them right.

‘You’re obviously going to be a mathematical genius when you grow up,’ Phoebe told him, impressed.

‘No, I’m not,’ he said. ‘I’m going to marry Mummy. Sing ten in a bed again?’

‘Not tonight,’ Phoebe said reluctantly. ‘I’ve got to go to my own bed and go to sleep. It’s late.’ She disengaged herself gently from him and slipped out of the double bed. ‘See you in the morning,’ she said to them both.

‘Sleep well,’ Fay said. ‘Keep your fingers crossed.’

The next morning was Saturday and they all three went out together to do the shopping. Jack insisted that Phoebe be the one to push him in the supermarket trolley.

‘Good practice,’ Fay teased.

They bought a pregnancy testing kit at the chemists, and Phoebe put it into her bag as carefully as if it were a bomb.

‘I shall be scared to use it,’ she said to Fay, ‘in case I’m not.’

‘It may well be too early,’ Fay said. ‘If it’s negative at this stage, I don’t think it means that you’re definitely not pregnant.’

‘But if it’s positive, I definitely am?’

‘That’s right.’

‘In that case, I’m going to do it the minute we get home!’ Phoebe said, but when she read the instructions, she found that the urine had to be a morning sample. She would just have to contain her impatience until first thing on Sunday.

They unpacked the groceries and put them away in the cupboards with help from Jack, so it took twice as long as usual.

‘Let’s have a coffee before we get lunch?’ Fay suggested.

‘Good idea,’ Phoebe said, putting the kettle on.

‘Juice,’ Jack demanded, and as he said it the front doorbell rang. He ran to answer it, followed by Fay. Phoebe sat down for a rest on one of the kitchen stools to wait for the kettle to boil. She heard whoever it was at the front door being
invited in. Then they all came into the kitchen preceded by Jack.

‘Grandma Dragon,’ he said.

It was Hope!

Fay’s first reaction to seeing Hope on the doorstep was, Oh God, the Moon brothers have sent in the heavy mob to bring us to our senses!

‘Good morning,’ Hope said crisply. ‘I just thought I’d pop over and see how you all are.’

‘Hope!’ Fay said. ‘How, er, lovely. Come in.’ They went into the kitchen and Fay caught the fleeting expression of shock on Phoebe’s face, as an echo of her own. She made a face of mock horror at her, behind her mother-in-law’s back, and saw Phoebe trying to suppress an hysterical giggle.

‘Hello, Phoebe,’ Hope said. ‘How are you?’

‘Fine,’ Phoebe said, disconcerted, ‘thanks.’

‘I’m in London for a concert,’ Hope said, finding the only comfortable chair and sitting down stiffly. ‘It’s a wonderful series, quite outstandingly played, conducted by that young Scandinavian with the Italian mother … what
is
his name now? … Oh yes, Guido Mâelstrøm, a singularly unprepossessing one for such a beautiful and talented young man, but that’s often the way, isn’t it?’

‘Like places called “Paradise” are always awful dumps,’ Phoebe suggested.

Hope ignored this. ‘Is that coffee?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ Fay said, with a guilty start. ‘Would you like some? You will stay to lunch, won’t you?’

Hope graciously consented to take coffee and lunch with them. She didn’t once mention their marital problems. Fay wondered why she was there. She wasn’t one to pay a mere social call.

‘Grandma,’ Jack said, ‘we were three in a b-bed.’ Oh my God! Fay thought, what will she think? Does she know? What shall I say?

‘Really?’ Hope said, looking inscrutable.

‘It’s a song we were singing,’ Phoebe said quickly. ‘You know
the one
–And the little one said, ‘Roll over.’ So they all rolled over and –’

‘I did in fact have a purpose in coming here,’ Hope interrupted. ‘As you know, I’m moving out of the Temple flat and dispersing all its contents. I wondered if there was anything you two would particularly like. After all, in spite of all events, you are still my daughters-in-law.’

‘There were ten in the bed and the little
–’ Jack began in a loud tuneless chant.

‘Jack,’ his grandmother said firmly, ‘be a good little boy and go and play somewhere else for ten minutes, will you? We grown-ups have some serious talking to do.’ And to Fay’s amazement, Jack went! ‘Now,’ Hope said, ‘Phoebe, is there anything?’

‘Well,’ Phoebe said cautiously, ‘do books count?’

‘Which ones were you thinking of?’

‘The five volumes of Witherby’s
Handbook of British Birds,’
Phoebe said. ‘I’ve always thought they were special …’

‘Consider them yours,’ Hope said. Phoebe let out a little cry, jumped to her feet and rushed over to hug her. Fay watched with amusement. She would sooner have hugged a gorse bush, but then Phoebe was like that, impulsive and warm-hearted. Fay glanced at Hope over Phoebe’s shoulder and was surprised to see, on the aristocratic face in that unguarded moment, an expression almost of tenderness. For the first time ever, Fay acknowledged that the older woman did indeed have real feelings, and could be touched by affection. Perhaps if she had married a demonstrative sort of man, she too could have let her emotions show, and her children in turn would have been able to acquire that most necessary of human attributes; the ability to relate to others. In that moment Fay sympathized with Hope in a way that she hadn’t managed to, during all of the twenty-four years that she had known her. She realized that it was Peter, not Hope, who was primarily responsible for the chain. Perhaps Hope was here now to offer them an olive branch because she secretly envied them. Perhaps she wished that she had had the opportunity to leave Peter years before when the children were young, but couldn’t. Fay didn’t know much about her in-laws’ background, but she did
know that in those days divorce was particularly traumatic, and divorcées considered beyond the pale. Only ‘fast’ women like Nancy Sedgemoor had the courage, or the foolhardiness – or the money? – to put themselves through it …

‘And what about you, Fay?’ Hope was asking. ‘What would you like?’

‘I’d love the firedogs from the drawing room,’ Fay began, ‘ … no, the walnut corner cupboard in the dining room …’

‘Which?’ Hope asked.

‘The cupboard,’ Fay said, deciding.

‘Good,’ Hope said. ‘I shall arrange it. You may well get both or more. It all depends upon what everybody else wants, but I decided to give you both first refusal.’

‘Is it ten minutes yet, Grandma?’ Jack asked, sliding in through the door on his bottom.

‘Yes,’ Hope said, smiling down at him. ‘I do believe it is.’

Phoebe had been horrified to see Hope coming into the kitchen. She had assumed immediately that Hope was an envoy from Duncan, and had been afraid that she would be called upon to explain herself and justify her actions. The relief which had flooded through her when Hope had explained her presence there by announcing her intention of actually giving them something from the flat, and then her joy at the thought of those lovely books with their detailed descriptions, old-fashioned illustrations and the advertisement on the flap of their dust jacket for the BBC in wartime London – the voice of freedom … Phoebe had forgotten herself completely and rushed to do the most natural thing in the world. Afterwards she was amazed at her temerity; that she should have been so forward! But she appeared to have got away with it.

Over lunch, Hope talked all about herself as usual, going over old ground again, but Phoebe felt able to forgive her for it. She was 73, after all. She had seen a lot of life. She told them how her father had been wounded on the Somme in 1916 and had died three years later, just before Hope was born. She and her sisters seemed to have been neglected by their distraught
mother, who in later life immersed herself in painting and had very little time for her children. Hope had assumed it was because they weren’t boys. She in her turn had wanted boys and had got them, but then having achieved this easily, had longed for a daughter. In 1948 between Hereward and Roderick she had had one, stillborn. Hope told her story without drama, with an even voice and little expression yet Phoebe, with all the easy emotions of the probably pregnant, had actually shed tears for her and had reached across the table to squeeze one of Hope’s hands in sympathy. Hope had snatched it away before she could do so. Don’t get carried away, Phoebe told herself, wiping her eyes rather shamefacedly. One hug does not a relationship make!

Phoebe supposed that Duncan had told Hope about the emergence of the bestiary from hiding and also about Nancy’s diaries, but Hope did not mention them, so Phoebe felt unable to bring the subject up. She was partly relieved about this and partly sad not to be able to present her own side of the story. Peter’s will was not mentioned either, so Phoebe was unable to find out what was going on about it; whether Duncan or Herry were going to contest it or not. Phoebe wondered how much money was involved, and what Brendan would do with it. Would he buy his own boat? Any normal person could be quizzed in a conversational manner about this sort of thing, Phoebe thought, but not Hope. She looked across at her mother-in-law’s formidable façade and quailed at the thought.

They got on to discussing the guests at the funeral. Hope had something dismissive to say about each one of her cousins. They had either failed in aspects of their own lives or had married no-hopers who had underachieved on their behalf. She’s always so
negative,
Phoebe thought. She always has to complain about something. Phoebe had thought for a moment earlier on that Hope was going to open up and become almost human; that released from Peter’s influence she might even soften and admit to weakness. But no, she was as adamant and unyielding as ever.

‘Pity that Brendan couldn’t make it to the funeral,’ Fay remarked.

‘I doubt very much whether I shall be seeing
him
again,’ Hope said. Subject closed.

After more coffee at the end of lunch, Hope announced her intention of leaving. She allowed Phoebe to hold her coat for her to slip into, and offered her cheek for each of her daughters-in-law to kiss. Then she preceded them out of the front door. The bright day had clouded over, threatening a sudden April shower. Hope paused beside a large showy white camellia in a pot on the front steps and then turning, issued not so much a request, rather a royal command.

‘I should deem it a kindness,’ Hope said, ‘if neither of you would divulge to my family
in any particular
the contents of any of the diaries that the Sedgemoor woman may have perpetrated.’

Phoebe thought to herself, Oh I see.
That’s
why she came!

Fay and Phoebe discussed her request after she had gone and agreed that it might be better to say nothing.

‘We haven’t much opportunity to tell Conrad and Duncan anyway,’ Fay said, ‘and what’s the point? I’m all for burying the past.’

‘I don’t suppose it would do them any good,’ Phoebe agreed. ‘They wouldn’t be able to let it change anything for them, after all; their characters are set in concrete.’

‘Yes, it’s far too late.’

‘But don’t you think it’s possible for open-minded people to learn from others’ experience?’ Phoebe asked her. ‘I’ve always felt that Nancy and I have had similar problems in our lives. I’ve sort of identified with her, and she really regretted leaving her husband when she was too old and it was too late. Perhaps there’s a message there for me.’

‘Nonsense!’ Fay said, with a shade too much asperity. ‘You’re not a bit like Nancy. You can take those sort of parallels too far, you know. What was right or wrong for her has absolutely no bearing on what would be best for you.’

‘I suppose not,’ Phoebe said. ‘Oh I wish I knew what was what a bit more.’

‘You might have more idea tomorrow morning,’ Fay said.

Fay could see that Phoebe was feeling tense, and would
continue to be on edge until she knew whether or not she was pregnant. Fay wanted very much to discuss the future and sound Phoebe out cautiously about her own ideas. If I do it at the wrong moment, Fay thought, then it may have exactly the opposite effect to the one I want. Perhaps I should wait until after she knows. But then, Fay thought, if she is pregnant she’ll be so overcome by the idea that she won’t be able to think clearly. And if she isn’t – she’ll be so upset that, ditto. I must try and talk to her tonight, after Jack has gone to bed.