Facing the Light (58 page)

She felt rather like the conductor of a large orchestra, waiting to raise her baton and start the whole thing off: conversation, laughter, food, the meetings with old friends. Everything. Whatever could have been done to make sure that the day went well had been done. She'd even remembered to ask Sean to go down to Lodge Cottage in good time and fetch Nanny Mouse and Miss Lardner up to the house in his car. He didn't mind. In fact, he appeared delighted. Rilla probably thought that her new
amour
was something between herself and Sean
and that no one else was aware of it. Leonora smiled. It was perhaps rather impulsive of Rilla to attach herself to him so quickly, but he was, as far as Leonora could see, a good man, a kind man, and he appeared to be fond of Rilla. Perhaps her daughter was right and the only thing that really mattered was to be as happy as possible whenever you could. Peter … Rilla had been right to remind her of that moment, all those years ago, when a young soldier had walked into the kitchen and she'd known she loved him before he'd even opened his mouth to speak. She's not a child, Leonora thought. She can look after herself.

*

Gwen had set her alarm for half-past five but found herself wide awake at five o'clock. She was excited. She couldn't help it. She sat up and started to get out of bed as quietly as she could. There was no need for James to be woken this early, but he stirred as he felt her push back the covers and said, ‘Surely it's not morning already?'

‘Not for you,' she whispered. ‘Go back to sleep. I'm just going to do a few things before Bridget arrives.'

‘Mmm,' James said, and buried his face in the pillow.

Gwen pulled on a tracksuit and went to brush her teeth. Ever since childhood, she'd loved the feeling of being up and about when everyone else was asleep. She looked out of her bathroom window and thought, as she always did when she woke up early during the summer, that this was easily the best part of the day. The sky was pearly with new light and still faintly pink where the sun had just risen. A few fluffy clouds were dotted about the blue, like those a child might have painted. The dew was still on the grass, sparkling where the light caught it just as dew was meant to do. Gwen smiled. She would go down and have a cup of coffee and a slice of toast before everything got too hectic. In her experience, on occasions
like this birthday party alcohol began flowing as soon as two or three people were assembled anywhere and it was just as well to get some nourishment inside you. She felt a knot in her stomach somewhere, and thought, it's like going into battle, or something.

She tiptoed downstairs and into the kitchen. It struck her as strange that Douggie was still asleep, but maybe he'd had a disturbed night. As she put the coffee on, it occurred to her that she hadn't heard him in the night. She frowned. I'm sure I'd have woken up, she thought. That must mean he slept right through. What a good boy he is. She put the bread into the toaster and fetched the butter from the fridge.

As she ate, she made a mental note of everything that needed looking at before she went out to meet Bridget. The vases of flowers all over the house, the present tree (just to make sure that all the latest gifts had been added to the pile), the downstairs lavatory to check that clean towels had been put out and new pot-pourri arranged in the blue and white bowl on the shelf. After I've done all that, she thought, I'll go and wake Mother with a cup of tea and bang on Rilla's door. She won't want to have to hurry with her titivating.

‘Made any extra for me, darling?' James came into the kitchen, smiling. ‘Lovely day again, I'm glad to say.'

He sat down opposite her and Gwen marvelled, as she always did, at the way her husband was instantly awake and completely himself first thing in the morning, however much he'd been drinking. There used to be days, after particularly bad nights when the children were little, when she felt she could scarcely keep her eyes open at the breakfast table and was rather irritated by James being quite so (in his own words) ‘bright-eyed and bushy-tailed'. Now she was grateful for his cheerfulness and energy.

‘Get that toast down you,' he said, ‘and we'll go out
and see if Bridget's here yet. I want to give the marquee a last look round.'

‘It was fine last night,' Gwen said. ‘Just needed the flower arrangements on the tables and the place settings.' She sighed. ‘Everything's gone rather too smoothly, as far as the catering's concerned. I'm nervous. Holding my breath in case something goes wrong.'

‘Nonsense, darling, nothing will go wrong. Everyone will have the time of their lives. I just hope your mother is herself. That suicide note must have been a shock for her, don't you think? Still, she's a tough old bird, isn't she?'

‘James!' said Gwen, trying to sound offended and not quite succeeding, because after all he was speaking no more than the truth. Leonora
was
tough, but probably not as strong as she and everyone else liked to believe. ‘Come on, then. Finish up your coffee and let's go.'

*

Reuben Stronsky spent the first part of his drive to Willow Court thinking about the call he'd taken on his cell phone just before he set out. It was from Efe, sounding hurried and anxious, as though there were some kind of emergency happening where he was. Maybe that was just the bad reception in this part of the world. ‘A turn-up for the book' he called it, and that quaint British expression meant that Leonora Simmonds had changed her mind and was going to allow the Walsh pictures to be housed wherever he, Reuben, thought best. He couldn't help smiling and wondered what had swung it for him. When Efe told him about the real creator of the pictures, he was overwhelmed and wanted to discuss it further, but it was clear that Efe was eager to get off the phone and said only that he'd asked the parking staff to watch out for Reuben's car. Details of the revelations would have to wait.

‘I might get there early,' Reuben said. ‘I'm making good time.'

‘Come in and meet Leonora then, and have a cup of coffee before the shindig gets going.'

Shindig
. Another good British word. Reuben said, ‘I'll take a raincheck on that, Efe, if you don't mind. I want to walk in those lovely gardens for a while. Would that be okay?'

Reuben was assured that the gardens were at his disposal. He glanced out of the window. This was the sort of day, he reflected, that earned England its reputation as a beautiful country. In this weather, the Wiltshire villages he was driving through had ‘traditional idyllic landscape' written all over them, and there were stretches of the route when he felt that he was driving through a film set. Rain, grey streets, sidewalks covered in litter, boring suburbs and featureless estates on the outskirts of cities might have belonged on another planet, and it amazed him that in a country this size there could be so many different views out of a car window.

He'd left London early to beat the traffic and was just beginning to get the hang of the white BMW he'd hired. Beside him on the passenger seat was the perfect birthday present. Leonora would never expect such a thing, and Reuben was sure that the serendipity of how he found it would be part of its appeal for her. It was, he knew, unique, and would stand out from every single thing anyone else could possibly have thought to give her.

Reuben had not been looking forward to his meeting with Leonora. Persuasion, charm assaults, bringing pressure to bear; he hated anything that forced him to be something other than what he naturally was, and he had a pretty good idea what that was. He was a quiet man who hated the limelight. ‘Strong and silent' his ex-wife called him once, but that was a long time ago and now, at the biblical age of three score years and ten, he could no longer claim strength as a distinguishing characteristic. Tall. He was tall and quiet. Some people said he was
stubborn, but he preferred to think of himself as determined. He'd been ready to put his case to Leonora as forcefully as he could, but he wasn't sorry that none of that would now be necessary. Now, his gift was a way of thanking her, rather than a kind of bribe. Reuben began to hum ‘Oh, What a Beautiful Morning', as the green and gold countryside slid past at high speed; white clouds in the blue sky looked as though they were racing to keep up with him. I'm on my way to Willow Court, Reuben said to himself. He couldn't help feeling optimistic and younger than he had for years.

*

Alex had set his alarm for seven o'clock, thinking that he'd be the first up and could wait quietly outside the marquee for the caterers to start setting the tables with glasses and flower arrangements and so forth. He wanted some shots of everything in preparation.

Before he got out of bed, he did a mental check to make sure that what he thought had happened last night wasn't a figment of his imagination. Beth. She'd made it quite clear how she felt about him. He wasn't second-best to Efe. He hadn't dared to bring the subject up, but characteristically, she had. She'd talked and talked about it and he just sat there listening to her. She went over the whole history of her relationship with his brother. He smiled. Had she realized that half the time he wasn't even taking in what she was saying? That he was too busy wallowing in the nearness of her body to his?

The love he felt for her! It was as though someone had blown up a balloon somewhere inside him. It was weird. He felt full to bursting with unaccustomed emotion, which made him feel like laughing and crying and leaping about like a fool. Was it any wonder people behaved so stupidly half the time when they were in love? He got out of bed, and washed and dressed, and had a cup of coffee standing up in the kitchen. Then he stumbled outside at
about half past seven only to find that both his parents were in full organizational mode. James was wasting Bridget's time by chatting to her while she was trying to oversee the table settings and get started on the food. Gwen was hovering around, watching the comings and goings of the staff, still in their jeans and T-shirts. She was looking as though she were not quite sure whether there was something she ought to be doing.

‘Stand still, Mum,' Alex said. ‘I'm going to take a photo of you.'

‘Oh, not looking like this, Alex, please!' Gwen said, and added, ‘How come you're up so early? I was going to wake you all at nine o'clock.'

Alex took one photograph after another, taking no notice of his mother's protestations about not being presentable. He said, ‘I wanted to get some shots of what it all looks like before the crowds get turned loose on it. When's everyone coming?'

‘Drinks on the terrace from eleven or so. Lunch from one onwards. Oh, goodness, I really do hope everything goes without a hitch.'

‘Course it will.' Alex spoke soothingly, wondering at what exact point in the morning's activities his mother and Leonora would need to be told about Fiona. He raised the camera to his eye and focused on a young woman carrying a tray into the marquee. The sunlight caught the glasses and made them sparkle. Even at this distance, Alex thought, that'll look good.

*

This is the very best bit of any social occasion, Rilla said to herself, as she lay in the bath and let the scented water cover her. Not vanilla at Willow Court, but Gwen's favourite, Crabtree & Evelyn's ‘Nantucket Briar'. The wonderful part is always before something begins. Deferred gratification. Expectation. Anticipation. For a moment, she closed her eyes and thought about last
night. Sean had been so kind. Being near the lake was hard for her, but she'd done it, after years and years, and it would get easier. The taste of his kisses couldn't possibly still be on her lips but if she concentrated hard she could call it to mind exactly, and she felt her whole body become as warm and liquid as the water that surrounded her. She smiled. Talk about deferred gratification! This delaying of pleasure meant that she was in an almost permanent state of sexual excitement. Stop thinking about Sean, she told herself. This is Leonora's day.

Getting ready for the party was like ‘the half' in the theatre, the thirty minutes before a performance when you sat in front of the mirror and saw your face framed by lights, waiting to be worked on and full of possibilities. Behind you in the dressing room, your costume would be hanging on a rail, and soon you'd step into it and become someone else. Here, the dress was in the cupboard, and Rilla imagined the folds of chiffon floating in the darkness, waiting for her. She'd hesitated before buying it. There was a superstition in the theatre about wearing green but Rilla prided herself on being rational and, in any case, this wasn't the theatre and the colour wasn't properly green. It had so much blue in it and was so pale that the first thing you thought when you saw it was, that dress looks like the ocean. Perhaps it was nearer turquoise. Or pale peacock. Whatever the shade, it was the way the skirt drifted round her legs, the way the neckline flattered her bosom and shoulders, that made her fall in love with it. She could hardly wait to put it on.

But it wasn't a costume or a disguise. I don't want to be anyone except myself, she thought, getting out of the water and silently congratulating Leonora on the luxury of the Willow Court towels as she wrapped herself in one the size of a small blanket. I'm going to concentrate on making myself as beautiful as I possibly can.

On the way back to her bedroom, she noticed that the door of the nursery was open. Oh, God, she thought. Had Douggie got in there before Fiona drove off with him? Rilla went to see what he might have got up to, not even daring to think of Leonora's reaction to any new damage.

‘Beth! What are you doing here? I thought it was Douggie. Why aren't you getting ready?

‘Sorry, Rilla. I just wanted a place to think quietly for a bit.'

She was kneeling on the floor, looking at the dolls. Looking as though she were just about to pick them up and play with them.

‘Something wrong?' Rilla sounded tentative. Beth seemed to her quiet rather than miserable, but it was important to make sure.