Never Too Late (6 page)

Then they were drawn by his professional enthusiasm and charm. They felt important in his presence. His soft Scottish burr added an almost magical, hypnotic charm to his questions and drew from them opinions and ideas they hadn’t consciously realised they held. Furthermore, there was a deep conviction that their ideas mattered to him. Maggie had hosted enough business meals for him to see it happen time and again. It never failed because it was sincere.

I fell under his spell - and I am still bound.

Iain’s personal standards were very high and he would never compromise. He had been known to refuse more than one commission because of an instant antipathy to the potential client, even when they’d badly needed the income at the time. He could never explain himself but he was generally right in his assessments of people. Look at the woman he’d refused because ‘I don’t like her aura – I could never design a house for her’. She’d been convicted of murdering her mother a few years later.

Now, they weren’t what a lot of people would classify as rich, so Iain told her, but they were extremely well off and she wanted for nothing except the chance to spend some of this money with Iain by her side, while they were both still young and fit enough to enjoy it.

She patted her pocket, checking for the reassuring weight of her mobile. The children laughed at her and her ‘brick’ but the older style phone suited her needs. She’d agreed to have a phone when advances in the technology had reduced them to pocket size but she had refused to change to a newer one. Hers was large and heavy enough that she knew where it was. She could always quickly lay her hands on it if there was a problem she couldn’t cope with by herself. Not for her these ultra slim, ultra lightweight slips of hardware they favoured nowadays, the ones you could spend 20 minutes searching for and still end up using a landline to phone it before you could locate it.

Mind, some of the youngsters seem to have their phones transplanted onto their ear, phone conversations and texting taking the place of real conversations with your friends
.

Maggie shook her head at the changes that could be wrought within just one generation.

And what’s all this excitement about the new 3G phones the children and Iain keep on about? What on earth is 3G?

They had tried to explain but it was a bit beyond her.

A phone is to make and receive calls with, isn’t it? Not something to base your whole life around.

The younger generation now seemed to consider it a deadly sin not to respond promptly to a call, even if it meant ignoring the person you were actually with. Thank heavens there were a few places that had banned them and you could get some peace and quiet. She really did not want to know the details of a stranger’s day as he or she talked loudly enough into the phone for the whole train carriage to hear.

If she had understood Chloe correctly there would soon be lots of ‘applications’ for the new ‘smart phones’, but she didn’t envisage them changing her life at all
.

Why would I  want ‘sat nav’ on  my phone?
she wondered
. I’ve never used the car device Iain bought me for my fortieth birthday. Well, just after my birthday...

She swallowed hard, resolutely putting the hurt and disappointment of that day behind her.

The house made its familiar creaks and gentle groans as it settled in the cooler night air.

Chloe continued to plague her to get a dog
.

Perhaps I should listen to her
,
but Chloe can be so trying at times, always so sure she knows better than her mother now that she’s a city high flyer
.

Maggie found her stubborn streak kicked in each time the subject was raised. She’d refused point blank.

The idea is very tempting, but dogs are such a tie. Surely at some stage within the expected lifespan of a dog Iain will slow down and we can do things like go to the Lake District together, or just take off for a few days down to Cornwall, or jet over to Paris or Venice on a whim? Iain has seen most of the UK for one project or another – perhaps he’d enjoy spending a few months doing the grand tour to show me some of his creations?

She chewed on her bottom lip as she went up the graceful sweep of the stairs.

It wouldn’t be fair to a dog to be forever putting it in kennels. Even a day’s shopping in London would have to be curtailed – no following it up with a leisurely meal in my favourite Greek restaurant, or a trip to the theatre, not if I have to get back to feed and exercise a dog.

But lots of my friends have dogs, even horses. How do they handle it?

I must write a reminder note before going to sleep – check with them how they manage with pets. Constant, loving companionship – and protection from intruders – it’s certainly worthy of consideration.

*

The following Sunday the squally start to spring had settled down into a welcome promise of summer to come. The air was soft and alive with birdsong in the garden where Maggie was free, now that Chloe had left, to return to her task of potting on the summer annuals in the greenhouse. It had been a real treat to see both her children twice in as many months.

She had spent most of the day weeding the herbaceous borders and preparing the rich loamy soil for a new year of growth and colour, helped by James and Keela. They’d had a long discussion down in the lowest section of the two acres she kept as private garden, the other ten acres being rented out for grazing. Keela wanted to know what she planned for this rather boggy area.

Half of the land was still copse and wild flower meadow. With the pond in the copse, and a stream running through it too, it was ideal for the birds, bugs, butterflies, frogs, newts and mammals she loved. Definitely, though, the bog this side of the stream belonged as part of the ‘formal’ garden and still needed to be worked on. At first she hadn’t had the time to tackle it. Then she hadn’t been able to decide what she wanted, and so it had been left in its natural state.

James had taken great pride in showing Keela the garden that he and his mother had worked on all his life, creating beauty from scrubby farmland that hadn’t been used for decades. A quarter century of slow, gentle change had transformed the land to a series of interconnecting lawns, shrubberies, and amazing drifts of perennials in banks alongside winding pathways. Every vista tempted you to meander further into its hidden depths, or to pause a while on one of the many secluded seats.

Keela had been equally enthusiastic since marrying James and had helped a great deal whenever she could. She was the one with several ideas and suggestions for things like companion planting for the vegetable beds, soft fruits garden and small orchard. It had been a real joy to see the garden work its magic again – they had looked so relaxed and happy together. It confirmed Maggie’s belief that gardens are good for the soul.

She stretched her arms above her head and bent backwards then flopped forwards to relieve her aching muscles. Soon she would need a soothing bath but she had been determined to make the most of this glorious weather.

What a perfect weekend, just Iain missing from yesterday’s family meal, and then the children agreeing to stay over too. It’s a shame Chloe must have felt a bit of a spare part, with not liking gardening at all, but she seemed to enjoy her sunbathing, and the morning spent on her phone and playing the piano. Each to their own, I suppose.

*

When she left, Chloe deliberately sprayed gravel as she gunned her car down the driveway, starting on the hour-long journey back to her flat from what was increasingly becoming her monthly duty visit to her mother.
When had it stopped being fun to come home?
she wondered.

She gently exercised the feeling of tension out of her neck and shoulders as she enjoyed the power of her red Mazda – a congratulatory present from her father to his Princess on attaining her degree and her job offer.

Honestly, my mother is so maddening at times! Here she is, nearly 43, and still behaving like a bewildered child half the time. You’d think women’s liberation had never happened the way she carries on!
Chloe gnawed at her bottom lip, wondering what to do about Daddy.
So far his philandering has done no harm as Mummy seems incapable of putting 2 and 2 together and making 4. But now she is definitely lonely and needs him at home more.

Her father was also worrying her. There seemed an intensity about his latest relationship that had never been there before. He was a good judge of character and always before had chosen women he could pick up and drop as he pleased, no hard feelings, no complications.

Mid-life crisis perhaps? Last chance saloon now he’s seen 50 come and go?
Natasha is a dangerous, scheming bitch if ever I’ve met one. There should be a health warning on her, the rate she gets through husbands – all of them wealthy, of course. How many is it now – three? And her still only in her thirties. What did she do – fuck them into a heart attack? Sorry Mummy
, she mentally chided herself,
didn’t mean to use the f word, but Natasha just makes my blood boil! Poor Mummy – how can she fight for her marriage when she doesn’t even know there’s been a declaration of war? Daddy really has gone too far this time. He used to keep a balance of home and private life, but he’s almost never there any more by the sound of it. And it’s no good keep phoning me and James - it’s not down to us to fill the gap.

Chloe had left the hood down as the evening was so balmy. At a set of lights near her flat in Putney she noticed but did not acknowledge the lorry driver alongside her who was drooling at her cleavage. She flicked her very expensively highlighted blond hair over her shoulder and half smiled.

You can look, buddy,
she thought,
but you sure as hell can’t afford this pair!
and roared off in high good humour, having decided on her plan of action. She was hungry and Daddy had no doubt forgotten all about food while he pored over the latest blueprints in his office.

It’s time he took me out to dinner. I can work on him about dumping Natasha and being faithful to Mummy.

She’d always been able to bend him to her will with just a tremulous little smile and her huge long lashed blue eyes glancing up at him in that appealing way he couldn’t resist.

“Daddy,” she spoke into her mobile as she drove. “You have to help me out here.”

“Hello Princess!” She could hear the smile in his voice. “What is it you need honey?”

“I’ll be in Alfredo’s in 30 minutes and there is absolutely no way I can eat alone there – please say you’ll join me.”

“I’m sorry but I’m really tied up here at the moment,” he apologised, running his hand through his still thick, though now increasingly greying, hair.

“Oh but Daddy,” she pleaded, “you know if I’m alone some man is bound to try and pick me up. What if it’s some weirdo who can’t take no for an answer and tries to follow me afterwards?”

“What about all your friends?” Iain asked distractedly, aware she was playing on his greatest fear for her but unable to ignore her plea – as usual.

“None available,” she lied glibly. “Anyway you know I’d rather be with you and I saw hardly anything of you over the weekend with you getting back so late and leaving so early.” She swerved wildly to avoid a cyclist she’d only just noticed and raised the finger in response to the cyclist’s clenched fist.

“Oh, do say yes – I bet you haven’t eaten since breakfast and you have to keep your strength up.”

“OK, OK,” he agreed, knowing this was going to cost him in more ways than one. “I might be a little longer than 30 minutes but I’ll be there.”

“Oh thank you Daddy!” she gushed. “I knew I could rely on you – you never let me down.”

Iain went behind his desk, shaking his head, and sat back in his big leather office chair. “Sorry, Richard, we’ll have to leave it there for today.”

Richard, Iain’s 2IC, looked at his watch and smiled. It would be nice to finish as early as 7:00pm. At this stage in a project it was often 9 or later, even, like today, all through the weekend. “No need to apologise,” he grinned. “I’ll actually get to read the kids’ bedtime story.”

He knew it was all part of the territory when it came to working with Iain, but that didn’t mean it was easy to miss so much of seeing his three young children growing up. At just 34 he appreciated the chances Iain had given him to prove his mettle and reach his current position of power and responsibility, but with his elder son now 7 and his little daughter just 3 he knew he was missing out on a lot too.

Iain swivelled to his desk drawer and withdrew a bottle of Scotch. “Want a wee dram before you head off?”

“No thanks, Iain,” he declined. “I never feel comfortable driving with any alcohol in my blood. See you tomorrow.”

Iain raised a hand in farewell as Richard left and poured a generous measure of the single malt. He’d never noticed any impairment in his own driving after a dram of the nectar. A lifetime of practice, he supposed, liver well up for the task. He leaned back, rocking gently with the glass in one hand and his mobile in the other.

“Natasha, darling,” he said when she answered, but that was as far as he got before she cut in.

“Oh Iain,” she wailed. “You’re phoning to cry off again, aren’t you,” she accused him. “You promised me faithfully – no last minute hiccups or excuses this time, we’d have the whole evening and night together. I’ve been preparing all day for this. The food’s all prepared ready in the kitchen for our quiet night in – and so am I.” She ran a hand down her svelte body – a body that took most of her waking hours to maintain in its current condition - and her tongue flicked over her lower lip. “Do you want to know what I’m wearing for you?” she asked seductively.

Iain’s groan was answered by her throaty soft laughter.

“You know you want me,” Natasha continued, her voice low and sexy. “Just put on hold whatever else it is that’s happened and come on over as we planned.”