Just a Family Affair (44 page)

She finally spoke. ‘Rubbish,’ she said bitterly. ‘If I know you, you’ve tried to slither out of it, keep it quiet, get everyone else to cover your back. Anything but face up to reality.’

Mickey felt the words slice through him like the sharpest sabre. Is that really how little she thought of him?

Lucy walked away from him, then broke into a run, disappearing around the side of the house. He heard her car start up, then drive off.

Pudding gave an impatient whinny. He could see the bloody haynet. Mickey picked it up wearily and went to tie it onto the ring.

‘OK, Pudding,’ he sighed. ‘What the hell do I do now?’

James had summoned up all of his courage and taken the children to Birdland. It had taken him an hour and a half to get them dressed and ready and to remember all the stuff he had to take with him, but he had managed it. As they stood in front of the flamingos, he felt an overwhelming sense of achievement. Henry and Constance were jumping up and down with excitement, Percy was crowing with delight in his pushchair and against his better judgement James had bought them packets of sweets to stuff in on their way round.

He decided that maybe it wasn’t so hard to bring himself down to their level. He’d always been rather petrified of taking charge, but when you got down to it their needs were pretty simple. OK, it was exhausting, and the whole nappy thing was pretty grim. But once you’d accepted that you had to do it, it wasn’t so bad after all.

He felt rather proud. So proud that he helped himself to a handful of Haribo from Henry’s bag and ate them without gagging. He would do chicken nuggets and potato smiley faces for lunch, he decided, instead of the calves’ liver and mash he had been quietly determined to make them eat before his conversion.

His phone rang. Maybe it was Caroline. He went to answer it with a smile. She’d be astonished when she found out where they were.

But it was Lucy. She sounded strained.

‘James. Where are you?’

‘Birdland! We’re having a brilliant time. I took your advice—’

She didn’t seem interested. ‘Did you know? About this child?’ she demanded.

James sensed he had to proceed with caution. ‘Which child?’ he asked lightly.

‘How many are there?’ said Lucy with a heavy irony. ‘Kay Oakley’s. The one she’s using to wheedle a fortune out of our family.’

‘Uuh . . . um,’ said James slowly, playing for time, trying to work out what she knew already, and what his story should be. ‘You mean . . . Patrick’s little indiscretion?’ He thought he’d better toe the party line for the time being.

Lucy let out a hiss. ‘Is that what you’ve been told? That it’s Patrick’s?’

‘You mean it isn’t?’ He was treading very carefully.

‘You know it isn’t.’ Her tone was deadly. ‘I don’t believe you Liddiard men. Kay Oakley saunters back into your life with her demands and you drop everything and start selling off the family silver.’

‘Lucy. We have a duty to the child.’

‘What about the duty you have to your own wives and children? You’ve been sitting there in that boardroom, making decisions that affect us all, without asking us what we think. It’s insulting. And chauvinistic. I bet Caroline would have something to say about it if she knew.’

‘You’re probably right.’

‘Is that all you’ve got to say? You’re just going to stand by and watch while everything falls apart?’

James looked up at the pale spring sky. He looked at Constance and Henry peering over the wall at the pelicans. He didn’t want to get involved. He shuddered to think that less than two hours ago he might have been up to his neck in it. Common sense, thank God, had prevailed. Now he didn’t have time to sort out Lucy’s marriage. He had his own to deal with.

‘It’s not really any to do with me,’ he said mildly.

‘How much is she asking for, James?’

‘I’m not sure, exactly.’

‘You must have some idea.’

‘Um . . . I think it was . . . somewhere around . . . half a million. Roughly?’

Lucy uttered an exclamation of disgust and impatience and hung up.

‘Dad, can we go and watch the penguins being fed?’ pleaded Henry.

‘Absolutely,’ said James.

Penguins, he decided, were far more important than paternity suits.

K
eith smiled happily down at his roast chicken. He didn’t think he had ever been so pleased to see Sunday lunch in his life. The day before, he hadn’t been sure he would even see the choice that Sandra had made for him, let alone feel like eating it. He was starving. He picked up his knife and fork with relish.

OK, so he was in a bit of discomfort. And he wasn’t all that keen on tubes and catheters, but he had been assured that they would come out soon. Counteracting that was the relief. It was a wonderful feeling and he revelled in it again and again, enjoying the pleasure those few words gave him: the cancer is no longer within me. He felt he deserved to wallow; after all, he had spent so much time worrying.

With every bite of his meal, he felt strength flowing back into him. Not just physical strength, but mental. He felt ready to take on the world. With his anxiety dispatched into the ether, there was suddenly space in his head for everything he had been neglecting ever since his first trip to see Dr Keller. Before, he hadn’t been able to focus on anything, because the fear had dominated his every waking moment.

There were so many things to think about. The wedding - he was thrilled to know that he would be able to walk Mandy up the aisle next Saturday, even though he would need to take it easy. But at least he would be able to concentrate on the joy of the occasion, without the dark shadow that had been dogging him.

He must focus on the brewery, too. He had only been able to look through the proposal they had received half-heartedly. Now he would be able to go through it with a fine-tooth comb, and draw up a list of questions to fire at their proposed buyer. He knew it was all too easy to make things look enticing on paper. Words cost nothing, after all.

Most important of all was Ginny. She was due back tomorrow evening. He should do something to welcome her home. Perhaps book a table at the Lygon - he would be able to enjoy it properly this time. And he would tell her everything; ask for her understanding and her forgiveness. He could do that now that he knew he was going to be all right.

He smiled as he put down his knife and fork, then pulled the bowl filled with apple crumble and custard towards him. As he picked up his spoon, he could hear Sandra’s voice fluting down the corridor. He closed his eyes, wishing that she wasn’t here. For all his buoyant mood, he suddenly felt very tired. Perhaps it was the rather large lunch, or the after-effects of the anaesthetic, but his lids felt heavy.

Sandra swept in.

‘I thought I’d let you rest this morning,’ she said. ‘I went over to Keeper’s Cottage to make sure it was spick and span. Changed your sheets. Hoovered round a bit. Scrubbed the bathroom. You want everything pristine for when you go back - we don’t want you picking up any infections. And to be honest, it needed doing. I suppose everyone just ran off to the airport without a second thought on Friday.’

Keith felt rather indignant on everyone’s behalf. The cottage had been fine when he left. And to be fair, it wasn’t as if they knew he was going into hospital.

Sandra sat down on the chair next to his bed.

‘I’ve told Mr Jackson he can pop over to the villa for a week’s holiday if he likes. As a thank you.’

‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’

‘Although he’ll have to hurry up. I’ll be putting it on the market soon.’

‘Will you?’ Keith looked at her, surprised. ‘But you’ve only just bought it.’

She gave him a look that made his heart sink. A look that was part triumphant, part coy.

‘We can really go places, Keith,’ she said, her voice simmering with promise. ‘We are going to make such a team. We’ve got the world at our feet.’

‘Have we?’ Keith wished he hadn’t guzzled his lunch so quickly. He felt slightly queasy.

‘It’s what should have happened at the very start. We should have worked as a team in the first place, instead of driving ourselves apart. We should have moved together, to the Cotswolds. I should have been at your side. I should have supported you. Honeycote Ales wouldn’t be in the mess it’s in now. But at least it’s not too late.’

Keith pushed his bowl to one side, his appetite suddenly vanished. ‘Too late?’ he faltered. ‘For what?’

‘Keith . . .’ She peered at him from underneath her immaculately coiffed fringe, a smile playing on her lips. ‘We’re meant to be together. We know that. And what a beautiful, beautiful present for Mandy. Her mum and dad back together. It’s almost poetic.’ There was a dreamy expression in her eyes.

‘Sorry, Sandra . . . I . . .’ He was scrabbling for any memory that might give him a clue what she was on about. ‘I don’t think I understand.’

She looked rather put out by his lack of comprehension.

‘Last night. You told me that you loved me.’

‘Yes. But there are different sorts of love, Sandra. I meant . . .’

What had he meant? His memory was a bit blurry. Things had been coming back to him in the wrong order all morning, because he had been dozing on and off. He remembered feeling all sorts of things for Sandra the day before. A certain fondness, and appreciation of everything she had done for him. And a definite regret. But not the sort of regret that meant he wanted to start again. Just sorrow that they had caused each other such pain.

All of those things had obviously combined to send out the wrong message. When he had told her he loved her, she had misinterpreted it as a desire for reconciliation. He had meant that he loved her as a friend. Not husband and wife.

Keith shuddered inwardly at the prospect. Sandra might have changed, but not beyond recognition. Her assertiveness, her ability to take control, her steely determination had been just what he’d needed the day before, but he knew it would drive him mad before long. She was incapable of getting anything other than her own way. Sometimes that was a strength. It was undoubtedly what had made her a success in business. But Keith knew he couldn’t live with it.

The set of her jaw now, for example. He remembered it from their marriage. It was a look that brooked no argument. So many times he had given in to it, just for a quiet life.

He wasn’t going to give in this time. He had to let her down. He would like to do it gently, but the problem was that with Sandra if you did things gently she didn’t always get the message.

He summoned up his courage.

‘Sandra,’ he said firmly. ‘We might as well get this straight right now. I’m extremely grateful for your support over the past couple of days. You were a pillar of strength to me in my darkest hour. I will never be able to thank you enough. But there can’t be any more between us. Too much time has passed. We can’t go backwards. And . . . I love Ginny. Despite what you might think, we are happy together. Any tension between us at the moment is entirely my fault. And I’d like to think it was for a good reason. Now I know I’m all right I can make amends. I’m sorry if I sent out the wrong message to you - I wouldn’t want to hurt you for the world.’

He forced himself to look her in the eye. He had to make it absolutely clear. The tiniest chink in his armour and she would be straight in.

‘There can be nothing between us. I hope you understand.’

There was a tiny pause. Sandra smiled, stood up and took away his tray. Then she went back to his bedside and smoothed his covers.

‘I think you should have a rest,’ she said in a soothing voice. ‘It’s all been rather too much for you. We can talk about things later.’

Despite himself, Keith felt his eyelids go. She was right. It had been a bit much. His speech had been a huge effort. And it would be heavenly to drift off into oblivion, knowing that he wasn’t going to jerk awake with anxiety, that everything was all right . . .

As soon as she was satisfied he was asleep, Sandra picked up her mobile and went out into the corridor. She’d tried phoning him three times already this morning, but he hadn’t answered. Typical bloody Spaniard. He might cook like an angel and fuck like the devil incarnate, but he had no sense of urgency whatsoever. If she didn’t get the evidence in the next twelve hours, it would be too late. She had to strike while Keith was still vulnerable. It wasn’t a task she was necessarily going to enjoy, as he would probably be very upset. But she would be there to comfort him. And the ends would justify the means, she was confident of that. It was only right that they should be together again.

‘Alejandro,’ she barked into the handset as his voicemail clicked in. ‘Call me back immediately. I need to know what’s going on ASAP . . .’

 

The sun hung hot and heavy over the deserted swimming pool. Silence reigned inside the cool walls of the villa. Lunchtime came and went, but still the inhabitants slumbered on, much-needed sleep repairing their excesses of the night before.

Ginny was the first to wake. Her mouth felt dry and her head felt . . . where, she wasn’t quite sure. As she sat up, her heart crashed about inside her chest. Why was she feeling so unsettled? What had happened? Something. She knew there was something. Crazy images were replaying themselves in her head. Images she could neither believe nor comprehend.

She looked around for clues.

She was quite alone in her bed. The sheets were smooth, unrumpled. There was no evidence of any foul play.

Sex. Filthy, deep down and dirty, sinful sex. That’s all she could remember. Her limbs twitched and her flesh trembled as she tried to piece together what had happened, but even as it all came back to her she couldn’t believe it. She must have had more sun than she had thought. She must have spent the night hallucinating. She had no idea the sun could do that to you. It was dangerous . . .