High Tide (20 page)

Luca punched him on the arm. ‘Hey. I’m passionate. Not bloodless, like you.’

‘You’re preaching to the converted, mate.’

Angelica came to join them as the dining room emptied. Luca forced them into trying different cheeses, and the quince jelly he had made, and his special oat cakes, and the more glasses of port went down, the more they laughed.

Kate smiled to herself. Pennfleet was turning out to be full of surprises. Not what it seemed on the surface at all. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a sybaritic evening. Everyone in New York was so in control, and talked about the same old things. Tonight was an eye-opener for her. There was passion and humour and wit and debate in the conversation. She was having the time of her life.

At half eleven, Rupert saw that she was wilting. Recent jet lag, port and bereavement were not happy bedfellows.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Much as I would love to sit here till four o’clock in the morning, you wouldn’t thank me.’

She was taken aback by his consideration. And charmed when he insisted on paying for dinner. Kate hugged Luca, then Angelica, and neither of them seemed to mind in the least.

‘Thank you for the loveliest evening. It’s been a tough week, and it’s made everything seem brighter. It’s been one of the best nights of my life.’ She knew she was gushing but she’d had more to drink in one night than she usually drank in a month. And she meant it. Even though she went to more A-list parties than she could count, it had been more fun than she’d had for a long time.

Rupert insisted on seeing her home.

‘What’s going to happen to me in Pennfleet?’ she protested.

‘You never know. Some wayward pirate might swoop down and take you off on the high seas.’

‘I’ll risk it.’

But he wouldn’t hear of it.

They walked up the hill together. Every now and then Kate found herself brushing against him. Too much wine, she thought, and steadied herself. And then he took her arm, wordlessly. It was a chivalrous rather than predatory gesture. And it provided her with the balance she needed.

To make sure he didn’t think she was reading too much into it, she babbled away.

‘I can’t believe how much Pennfleet has changed. The whole vibe is totally different from when I was last here.’

‘Vibe?’ he laughed. ‘I don’t think we have a
vibe
. Not just yet.’

‘Don’t take the mickey.’

‘You’ve definitely been in New York too long.’

‘
Vibe
is more of a California word.’

‘Whatever.’ He did a fake American accent.

‘You’re impossible.’ She dug him in the ribs with her elbow.

‘I am not,’ he told her. ‘I’m very very possible indeed.’

She fell quiet. She had no idea what he meant by that.

They came to a halt outside Belle Vue. She looked up the stairs, and suddenly felt dread. It would be so quiet inside. And still. And empty.

She didn’t want to go back into the house. She didn’t want to face the memories, or the decisions, or the questions. And it was all such a mess inside.

‘Are you OK?’ asked Rupert.

‘No,’ she said.

Rupert didn’t say a word. He just put his arms around her with no question. She pressed her face against his chest. His jumper was as soft as a kitten. Cashmere, definitely. It smelled of wood-smoke and sandalwood.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘It just got to me. I had such a lovely time tonight and I’d sort of forgotten. And now I don’t want to go in. It’s going to be cold and …’ she gulped. ‘Lonely. And it’s a total tip. And I ran out of oil. It’s freezing.’

‘Why don’t you come back to Southcliffe?’

She looked up at him in surprise. ‘What?’

‘Granny won’t mind. In fact, she’d be furious if I didn’t offer. There’s always spare beds made up. You can lie in as long as you want. I can make you breakfast and drop you back tomorrow when you feel up to it. Come on.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You absolutely can.’ He grinned. ‘And I can show you my ideas. You can tell me what you think. I bet you’ll think of a million things I haven’t thought of.’

He gave her a gentle push.

‘Go on. Go and get your things. We’ll walk back down the hill and grab a taxi.’

Kate just stood there, not sure what to do.

‘If you don’t hurry up, there won’t be one. They all turn into pumpkins at midnight round here.’

She needed no second telling.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me before?’

Daniel Fisher stood in the middle of the kitchen, his face dark with rage. He couldn’t believe what his grandson had just told him.

Nathan sat with his feet up on the kitchen table, his hands round a cup of tea. ‘I was trying to get my head round it.’

‘There’s nothing to get your bloody head round, lad. Malcolm Toogood thinks just that. That he’s too good for everyone else.’

‘Grandad – I messed up and that’s the truth.’

‘Rubbish. His dad would be ashamed of him. Toadying up to the rich incomers like that. He’s always been the same, though, Malcolm. Nothing like his father. More interested in money. His dad would have done anything for anyone.’

Nathan looked down into his cup of tea. His nan had always read his leaves for him. He looked at the black specks coating the bottom, and wondered what they held for him.

‘You heard from her, then?’

Nathan sighed. ‘Who?’ Though he knew full well.

‘Your fancy woman.’

Nathan sighed. When his grandfather was feeling adversarial, there wasn’t much point in having a conversation. He wasn’t going to mention the text.

‘No.’

‘There you are, then. She used you. All part of the service.’

‘Grandad, if you’re trying to make me feel better about any of this, you’re not. You’re making me feel worse.’

‘It makes me angry, that’s all. People today. They don’t know how to treat each other. There’s no loyalty. No consideration. No bloody manners. It’s all me me me.’

‘Yeah, well.’ Nathan was too tired to argue.

‘Just don’t turn into one of them, lad. I didn’t bring you up to be a user.’

‘Don’t worry. There’s not much danger of that.’

‘What you going to do for money, lad? It’s a long winter.’

Nathan looked up at his grandfather. His earlier irritation was suddenly replaced by fondness. He cared so much, Daniel. He was old school. He would never understand the world and how it worked nowadays.

‘Something’ll turn up.’

Nathan wasn’t too worried. He was resourceful. He had contacts. He could do some labouring for one of the local builders – there was plenty of that going on.

‘I’ve got people I can talk to,’ he said, but Daniel wasn’t listening. He was frowning, in another world. In a world where people treated each other with respect and consideration.

‘I wish your gran was still here,’ he said suddenly, and Nathan stood up to give him a hug. Daniel went to push him away at first, then relented, and let his grandson hold him, just for a second.

‘I’ll make another cup of tea,’ he said, his voice gruff, and he moved away towards the kettle.

Southcliffe was about a mile out of Pennfleet, further down the river. The cab swept in through the stone gates, up the long, sinuous drive and then went clockwise around the circular lawn that lay in front of the house, crunching over the gravel chippings, and came to a halt in front of the entrance. The house was grey stone and heavily Gothic, with an arched front door and pointy mullioned windows. It should have been scary in the moonlight, surrounded by tall trees, the night breeze ruffling their branches, but the lights inside made it surprisingly welcoming.

Rupert led Kate up the steps and opened the door, bounding into the hall, where two hairy lurchers leapt up with glee and came to greet him.

‘Jerry! Margo! Basket.’ He grinned. ‘Named after
The Good Life
. Granny’s favourite programme.’ The two dogs slunk off, wolf-like. ‘Don’t worry. They wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

Kate watched them settle down again. She had always thought of Rupert as a wolf. A vulpine creature with a hard heart. Or possibly no heart at all. But it seemed the intervening years had made him kindness and consideration itself.

‘Granny’s in bed, obviously. I’ll pop in and tell her you’re here so she doesn’t get a shock if she finds you in the morning. I’ll show you to your room first, though. Unless you want another drink?’

‘Gosh, no. I’m going to feel like death tomorrow as it is.’

‘No. You were drinking good wine, and I’ll give you some water. Come on. You can have the yellow bedroom. It’s small, but it’s the prettiest room, I think.’

He led her across the black and white marble floor and up the staircase. Kate felt like the heroine in a novel, being led to her fate. She could think of nothing but mad women in the attic, and the portrait of Rebecca that had gazed down on the hapless second Mrs de Winter.

Happily, they reached the appointed bedroom without any interference from unstable first wives. Rupert opened the door and gestured for her to enter.

‘Don’t worry about what time you get up,’ he told her. ‘I’ll be in my office. Granny will be pottering about. She doesn’t get up till nine. Stay in bed till midday if you want. You probably need to catch up.’

‘You’ve been so kind,’ murmured Kate, wondering just how dreadful she looked. Her make-up would have all worn off by now.

He lingered for a moment, looking awkward.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘The reason I asked you for dinner … I wanted to apologise. For how I treated you at my brother’s party.’

Kate blinked.

‘That was years ago.’

‘I know. But it was terrible behaviour. The truth is, I didn’t think you were going to come. I hadn’t heard from you all week. I didn’t think you were interested. I thought you’d got better things to do.’

‘Seriously?’ Kate couldn’t help laughing.

‘I thought you were amazing. You weren’t like any of the girls I knew. You weren’t stupid and spoiled. If I’d known you were going to turn up …’

He looked mortified.

‘Oh.’ Kate was nonplussed. This was the last thing she was expecting. She didn’t think Rupert had given her a second thought after their night in the boathouse.

He was leaning against the door jamb, looking at the floor. ‘That’s all I wanted to say, really. Sorry, I mean. For being an arrogant little cock.’

Kate laughed. ‘Don’t worry. Honestly. I mean, God, it was years ago. I’m kind of over it. I had therapy.’

He looked up, horrified. ‘Really?’

She gave him a gentle push. ‘No. Of course not. It was teenage-rite-of-passage stuff. I was teasing. But thank you for being sweet. And for dinner. And for this.’

She nodded her head towards the room.

He held her gaze. For a moment, she wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. Then he nodded.

‘You’re welcome.’ His voice was gruff. ‘Goodnight.’

And he walked off down the corridor.

She watched after him for a moment, then turned and walked into the bedroom.

It was a delight. With walls and silk curtains the colour of daffodils, it was lit by two lamps on either side of the bed. Who had turned these on? Kate wondered. It was almost as if she had been expected. She was too tired to speculate, and still fuzzy from the surfeit of wine. She went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, slipped into her nightdress and crept into the bed.

It was like climbing onto a cloud. The softest mattress, the warmest duvet, the plumpest pillows. She turned on her side and drew her legs up underneath her. In her somnolence, she felt a hot-water bottle in the middle of the bed, piping hot, but she was too sleepy to wonder who had put it there.

As she drifted off, she thought of her cheek on Rupert’s chest earlier. She had felt his heart beating.

It had been beating rather fast.

24

Kate woke up bathed in golden-yellow light, astonished to find that not only had she slept through until quarter past nine without waking once, even though she had forgotten to take her sleeping pill, but also that she had no hangover. She smiled to herself as she jumped in the shower and got dressed. Maybe that was the solution to her sleeplessness – to get plastered every night on expensive wine.

She packed her few things up, tidied the bed and made her way down the staircase into the hall. The house was quiet, but she strained her ears and caught the sound of movement down a corridor. At the end of it she found the kitchen, and Rupert’s grandmother, Irene, sitting at the table in jeans and a blue Guernsey, a scarf tucked into the neck. She had her dark glasses on, but didn’t seem to need her stick in the confines of her own kitchen.

‘Mrs Malahide,’ said Kate. ‘It’s Kate. Joy’s daughter.’

Irene stood and greeted Kate with warmth.

‘Kate. Rupert told me you might stay the night,’ she said, as if it was usual for strange women to find their way into her kitchen of a morning. ‘I popped a bottle in the bed but I do hope you weren’t cold?’

‘No, I was just right. Thank you. I slept like a top. But let me help.’

‘No. It’s fine. It’s a nuisance, this eyesight thing, but it’s surprising what I can still manage. Rupert makes a terrible fuss. Of course I can’t drive or anything, and it will get worse, but otherwise … I just have to do things more slowly. Sit down.’

Kate took a seat at a long table covered in a red oilcloth. She imagined all the Malahides crowded round it in their youth, Irene distributing rations. The kitchen was so out of date it was almost fashionable again. She watched as Irene put the kettle on the Aga – three times the size of the one in Belle Vue – and pulled a saucepan out of the cupboard.

‘You’re to sit there and talk to me while I boil you an egg. Now tell me – how are you, my dear? I’m so sorry about your mother. I was very fond of her. We were on the flower rota together and we used to spend the whole time laughing. Neither of us were natural flower arrangers.’

‘I’m fine, really. Obviously it’s been hard. But everyone’s been so kind.’

‘Well, yes. Joy attracted kindness. Because she was so very kind herself.’

‘People keep saying.’

‘We need more Joys in this world. One of those people who gives, but who isn’t a sickly saint. I wish I could be more like her but I don’t have the patience for other people that she had.’

Kate could imagine that Irene didn’t brook any nonsense. Joy had been endlessly patient and sympathetic with people, but it was only now that Kate was starting to realise how unusual that made her.

‘When you’re growing up you don’t realise that your parents are special in any way, do you?’ she said. ‘Quite often you don’t see it until it’s too late.’

‘There’s no need to feel bad about it. It’s the same for all of us. As parents you don’t expect to be appreciated. Funnily enough, one’s grandchildren can be more appreciative. It’s a much more satisfactory relationship.’

‘You and Rupert are very close, aren’t you?’

Irene gave a mischievous smile.

‘Yes. I’ve got the measure of him and I’ve worked out how to get the best out of him. He could have come to a sticky end. He’s what in the olden days would have been called a bounder. Or he was.’

Kate found herself completely under Irene’s spell. She watched as she moved about the kitchen, filling the teapot, dropping a brace of brown eggs into the saucepan, slicing a fresh loaf of bread. And as she watched, she wondered if perhaps Irene might be able to shed some light on her mystery. She’d lived in Pennfleet a long time. She was a pillar of the community and knew lots of people. Who knows, maybe Joy had even confided in her at some point?

‘Can I ask your advice about something?’

‘Of course.’ Irene brought over the teapot and placed it in front of her.

Kate took the letter from her handbag.

‘I found a letter in Mum’s handbag. I wondered if you might know who it was from.’

‘You’ll have to read it to me.’

Kate unfolded it and read it aloud, the words affecting her as much as they had the first time.

‘Oh,’ said Irene as Kate finished. ‘Oh. How terribly sad.’

‘It’s awful, isn’t it? I had no idea. And I don’t know how to find out who he is. “R” isn’t exactly helpful.’ She laughed. ‘I’m assuming it’s not Rupert.’

‘I think I know who it is. Robin Jessop. He lives about two miles away, upriver, in Elverscott.’ She shook her head in sorrow. ‘He and his wife retired down here about ten years ago. Then she gradually started “losing it”, as they say. Now he’s a full-time carer for her.’

‘Like Mum was for Dad.’

‘I imagine they met at the dementia support group in Shoredown.’

Kate nodded. ‘I know Mum used to take Dad there.’

‘And Robin takes Nancy. It’s a bit of respite, I suppose. A chance to meet other people in your position.’ Irene sighed. ‘Oh dear. Other people’s lives. Sometimes we just have no idea, do we?’

‘I know,’ said Kate. ‘What do you think I should do? I think he phoned the house the other night while I was there. As soon as he realised it was me, he hung up. I don’t think he knows about Mum.’

‘Possibly not. Elverscott’s quite isolated, and I don’t suppose he gets out all that much.’

‘Do you think I should go and see him?’

Kate felt grateful that she could take advice from someone like Irene, who was both wise and analytical.

‘I do, actually,’ Irene said eventually. ‘I think it will be difficult and awkward, but I think to fly back home without letting him know would be … cruel.’

‘That’s what I thought.’

Irene put her head to one side, thoughtful. ‘Would you like me to come with you? For moral support? I don’t know him terribly well, but it might help him. To have a familiar face.’

It was tempting to have Irene to lean on, but Kate thought it was the coward’s way out.

‘That’s sweet, but thank you. I think it’s something I need to do on my own.’

‘I have his address.’ Irene pulled an ancient address book covered in Liberty fabric from the side in the kitchen. ‘He’s a very lovely man. Very gentle and thoughtful. He’ll appreciate you going to see him. He won’t think you’re interfering.’

Kate was filled with dread at what she had to do, but she felt she had no choice. She had been struck by the depth of feeling in Robin’s letter, and his courage, and his regret. She needed to meet him. She copied the address down.

‘By the way, is Rupert here? Or is he out and about?’

‘In his office, further down the corridor. But have your breakfast first. Your eggs are just about done.’

Kate found Rupert in his office, which was utter chaos. He had paperwork piled up around his ears, empty cups, Margo and Jerry at his feet and Classic FM blaring out Elgar. He looked up as she came in.

‘You obviously slept well. Some of us have done half a day’s work already.’

She smiled, perfectly happy to be teased. She handed him a mug of coffee Irene had given her.

‘I just wanted to catch up with you before I left. To say thank you for a fantastic evening.’

‘My absolute pleasure. It was good to have someone to go out with. It can be a bit isolated here once the summer is over.’ He moved some papers around on his desk. ‘And if you do want to sell Belle Vue, of course we’d be interested in having a look. If you sell direct to us, there’d be no agent’s fee.’

Kate narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she trusted him. Had he just been buttering her up? Feigned a lack of interest to make her feel bad?

‘I’ll let you know the asking price,’ she told him.

He stood up. ‘Let me walk you round the grounds before you go. Tell you my plans. I’d love your take on it.’

Kate hesitated. She had a lot to do, but it was tempting. She was curious indeed. ‘That would be lovely.’

She borrowed a pair of Irene’s gum boots, and a wax jacket, and they made their way outside. There was a lacy mist hanging over the grounds, so they couldn’t see the sea in the distance. Silver dew clung to the lawn, and the air was sharp and fresh, the scent of ozone underlying the woodier smell of dying leaves underfoot.

They walked over the lawns at the back of the house, towards the cliff that towered over the sea and gave the house its name.

‘I know we’ve got the beach at our disposal, but we’re going to have to build a pool, because people expect it. So we’re putting it here. An infinity pool, so it feels as if you might fall over the cliff edge and into the sea.’

‘It’ll be spectacular.’

‘I hope so. I want it to blend in with the surroundings and be as natural as possible. There’ll be changing rooms and a bar, all in wood. All very mellow.’

The mist was starting to clear and, gradually, before their eyes, the ocean appeared. Kate wondered how many hours she had spent out there. The playground of her youth.

‘Come on,’ said Rupert.

He led her back over the lawns and round to the walled garden.

‘We’ve let this run to seed, because Granny can’t keep it up. But I’ve found a wonderful girl from the agricultural college. She’s going to restore it to its former glory. We’re going to supply all the fruit and vegetables for the house. And there’s going to be a cutting garden, for flowers. And we’re going to keep chickens. For eggs.’ He laughed. ‘Obviously.’

Kate felt a twinge of envy. ‘It’s a fantastic project. You’re very lucky. And I think it’ll be really successful. It’s exactly what people want – wealthy people who live in cities. A breath of sea air, luxury, a bit of history …’

‘Do you think so?’ Rupert looked anxious. It was the first time Kate had ever seen him less than confident. ‘To be honest, I haven’t a clue what I’m doing.’

‘You just need to keep an eye on your spending. Do things in phases, rather than trying to get everything up and running all at once.’

‘But I want it to be perfect. Now!’ He laughed at himself. ‘If you think of anything I’ve overlooked. Or have any brainwaves …’

‘Sure. But you seem to have it covered.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Listen, I better go. I’ve got a million things to do before I fly back. My boss is champing at the bit. But thank you – for a lovely night. And I’ll let you know about the house—’

She felt the warmth of him through his jumper as he leaned in to give her a hug. They both stood still for a moment. Kate felt awkward, and knew damn well that was exactly how she was supposed to feel. Rupert smiled and raised his eyebrows. God, he was a player, even now. A leopard never changes its spots, she reminded herself.

She raised a hand to say goodbye, turned and walked away as quickly as she could, feeling as if somebody had tipped a tub of glitter into her stomach.

Then realised she had no way of getting back to Pennfleet.

She turned. He was standing with his arms crossed, smiling at her.

‘I’m guessing you’d like a lift?’ he said. ‘Cos it’s a long walk.’