Second Time Around (12 page)

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Authors: Marcia Willett

BOOK: Second Time Around
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‘Isn't it amazing?' James was saying. ‘This is Matron. From my prep school. I simply couldn't believe it. She hasn't changed a bit.'
‘Which only goes to show,' said Bea, shaking Will's hand, ‘what an awful old bat I must have been in my forties.'
‘To an eight-year-old anyone over twenty is decrepit,' said Will consolingly. ‘I'm your cousin, Will Rainbird. But I can't call you Matron … '
‘Sorry,' said James hastily. ‘This is Miss Holmes.'
‘Bea,' she told Isobel, smiling at her. ‘How d‘you do?'
‘I never thought of it being you,' said James. ‘I didn't recognise the name. We always called you … Matron.'
She smiled at his hesitation. ‘Or Busy Bea?' she suggested. ‘And other less complimentary things with an emphasis on the B?'
Isobel burst out laughing at James's discomfited expression. ‘I'll leave you to discuss in peace,' she said. ‘You know where I am if anyone wants anything. Come in for a cup of tea if you feel like it.'
Bea, puzzled, watched her walk away and turned to James. ‘Is she not my other cousin?'
‘Sorry.' James looked even more confused. ‘I should have introduced you properly. That's Isobel Stangate. She rents the cottage. I haven't been able to contact Tessa yet.'
‘I see.' Bea looked thoughtful.
‘So,' said Will, more heartily than he had intended. ‘So what's your verdict?'
She raised her eyebrows. ‘Verdict?'
‘Now that you've seen the place,' he said, ‘what d'you think of it?'
‘The position is excellent,' she said slowly, ‘if you like deserted coves. I'm sure it will fetch a good price.'
He stared at her in disappointment. ‘You still want to sell then?'
She looked at him in surprise. ‘What else do you suggest we do with it?'
‘I hoped we might keep it,' he said slowly.
‘Keep it?' She looked at him as though he were mad. ‘For what purpose? '
‘To live in,' mumbled Will, embarrassed by her penetrating stare. ‘I'd like to hang on to it. So would Tessa. We hoped you might feel the same.'
Bea looked at James as though waiting for him to enlighten her. ‘They both love the house, you see,' he explained rapidly, rather feeling that he was excusing a particularly muddy rugby shirt or a lost sock. ‘They were wondering if the place couldn't be kept and used by the three of you.'
Bea frowned a little, as though she were doing a particularly difficult mental calculation. ‘You seriously imagine that the three of us could live here together?' she asked. ‘But why? There's nothing here.'
She glanced around her. The tide was swirling in across the sand, bursting in white foam against the rocks, filling the pools; above the cliffs away to the east a new moon hung, just visible in the deepening blue of the night sky.
‘I suppose,' said Will slowly, ‘it all depends on what you mean by nothing.'
Bea looked sharply at him but James intervened. ‘Shall we take advantage of Isobel's offer of a cup of tea?' he asked diplomatically. ‘And then I'll drive you back to Plymouth.'
Bea hesitated and then nodded. Will stood for a moment, watching the sky change colour as the darkness gathered and the stars appeared, and then followed them across the beach to the cottage.
 
 
THE FARM GATE STOOD open. Tessa applied the brakes and the two dogs in the back of the car were caught off balance, claws scrabbling. She reversed back along the lane and sat for a moment looking in at the close-cropped turf. She had found that farmers rarely objected to people walking their dogs in fields where there were neither crops nor stock but she always felt safer where the gates were open and the grass very short. She had once been surprised by a flock of sheep being driven into an empty field whilst she and her somewhat excitable charge were at the furthest corner from the gate. It had been an interesting moment.
Here, however, it seemed that the field had been well and truly cropped and Tessa reversed back to a wider part of the lane where she could park safely. She had also learned never to block gateways with the car. The farmer might arrive on a tractor at any moment to feed the field with some kind of fertiliser and be justly annoyed at being denied entry. The clumber spaniel—who bore the unlikely name of Sidney—looked anxiously from the rear window. He hated travelling backwards; it gave him a feeling of insecurity to see objects hastening towards him. He moaned briefly.
‘Shut up, Sid!' muttered Tessa, as she negotiated the verge and the thorn hedge. ‘Don't be such a baby. Harry doesn't make a fuss.'
Hearing his name, the Jack Russell who had been standing on his hind legs—forepaws on the wheel arch as he peered eagerly from the side window—let forth a series of staccato barks. Tessa, clad in jeans,
gumboots and a warm padded jacket, climbed out and released them and then stood for a moment to breathe in the sharp early morning air. Sidney, happy to be free of the confined space, padded to and fro along the verge, sniffing amongst the brambles and the faded willowherb. Harry, scenting rabbit, vanished into the field, his excited barks echoing in the quiet spaces of the Wiltshire uplands.
‘Come on, Sid.' Tessa slung their leads round her neck, pushed her hands into her pockets and followed Harry into the field.
Sidney, his noble mien managing to convey a wounded expression at being called Sid, lifted his leg against a large dock and ambled slowly in her wake. Inside the field Tessa felt a familiar sensation as she gazed across a rolling expanse of chalky fields and gentle dun-coloured slopes. Small cottages, slate grey, nestled in the folds of the hills and mist clung in the valleys. A charm of goldfinches, feeding on thistle seed, swirled up into the cool air and a robin in the branches of an alder sang a stave or two before dipping over the hedge and out of sight. The welling up of joy in Tessa's heart reached the point where she knew it must be expressed in some action lest she burst with gratitude at the beauty spread out before her.
She began to run down the field, calling to the dogs, arms outstretched. Harry joined in, skittering round her feet, barking madly whilst Sidney watched from his refuge under the hedge, pained at such unrestrained and plebeian behaviour. The field descended to a small stream, trickling between nut and alder trees, and Harry paused to drink copiously, stumpy tail wagging furiously, short legs planted foursquare. Sidney approached cautiously and Tessa bent to stroke his silky white coat and large domed head.
‘It's not right, is it, old boy?' she murmured. ‘Leaving you with a ratbag like Harry. Poor old chap.'
Sensing sympathy and a proper awareness of his dignity, Sidney sighed deeply. He consented to drink a little, one drooping eye on his regenerate companion. Tessa watched, smiling to herself. The decision that Harry's owner, a newly divorced woman with two small
children, should join Sidney's mistress—also divorced with two children—on a holiday in France had been made at the last moment. It seemed that the two women could share the driving and the expense of the villa which could accommodate them all at a pinch; but what about Harry? Rather reluctantly, Tessa agreed that she would look after both dogs and hoped that Harry would be able to adapt to his new surroundings. Fortunately there was an outhouse where he could sleep, so leaving Sidney in possession of the kitchen and his rather smart beanbag. Harry, unused to such niceties, sniffed about and settled down happily on his torn old blanket to the marrow bone with which Tessa had the foresight to supply him. Sidney had observed these proceedings somewhat dolefully from the safety of the kitchen door but Tessa had been firm with him.
‘It's no good, Sid,' she said, shutting the outhouse door firmly and going with Sidney into the kitchen. ‘Your missus said, “no bones.” That's what comes of being so aristocratic, see? Your digestion's too delicate. Can't have you throwing up on this nice carpet.'
Sidney watched anxiously from his beanbag, fearful that this strange young woman who addressed him so disrespectfully might also forget his night-time Bonio. Tessa pottered, unaware of the distress in Sidney's breast, but talking to him all the time. Finally, however, she opened the cupboard and took out the familiar box. Sidney heaved a relieved sigh as Tessa placed the biscuit beside him, tugged his long ears gently and wished him good night.
Now, as they climbed the grassy slopes to the gate, Tessa was feeling more confident that she could cope with them both and her thoughts slid back inevitably to the house in the cove. She had not been able to meet Beatrice Holmes but Tessa knew now that Bea had no desire to keep the house although James had asked her to think about it, which she had agreed to do but with no real hope of changing her mind. Meanwhile, Will and James were trying to think of some way of buying her out. Between jobs, Tessa had fled down to Devon to meet them. The meeting was held at James's office.
‘I know you wanted to meet at the cove,' he told Tessa when she and Will had been introduced. ‘But I felt it best that Isobel should be left out of this discussion.'
The two Rainbirds looked at him and he felt an almost hostile reaction. Part of him was pleased that Isobel had made such a favourable impression on them but it did not give him confidence in what he was about to suggest.
‘I like Isobel,' Tessa said. ‘She's like one of the family, isn't she? She's told me so many things about Mathilda I feel I knew her, too.'
‘Exactly!' Will beamed at her, liking this girl who seemed barely more than a child but who had carved her niche with such determination and courage. ‘Must have been quite a girl, Mathilda!'
‘Yes.' James leaned his elbows on his desk. ‘Yes, she was. And Isobel is a very nice woman but we have to consider this from all angles. The point I wish to make is this. If we could sell the cottage it would probably raise a significant sum towards buying Matron out. Sorry.' He shut his eyes and shook his head. ‘She'll always be Matron to me.'
Tessa, who had heard the story from Isobel, grinned but almost immediately looked serious. ‘But Isobel has the right to stay on in the cottage,' she pointed out. ‘And even if she hadn't, where would she go?'
James stared at his desk top, hating himself. ‘I think that if she knew that the sale of the cottage would make it possible for you to hang on to the house then she would look elsewhere for accommodation. There are other houses for rent, you know.'
‘We
couldn't
ask her to go,' cried Tessa—to Will's relief. ‘How could we? She cared for Mathilda and she loved her, too. She misses her dreadfully. She loves the cove as much as we do. It's her home.'
Will watched her gratefully, glad that it had not been left to him to defend Isobel's position. ‘There's another point, too,' he said. ‘Would we want strangers living in the cove? In such close proximity the whole atmosphere of the place could be ruined.'
Tessa was staring at him in horror, remembering Isobel's story of
Mathilda's tenant with the drunken husband. James raised his hands and shoulders in a helpless gesture.
‘I agree it's a risk. But it
is
a way of keeping the house.'
‘And where would Isobel go?' asked Tessa somewhat belligerently.
‘Well, you might offer her accommodation in the house,' suggested James, ‘although I think it's unlikely that she'd accept. No doubt she'd find another cottage. I take your point about undesirable neighbours at very close quarters but every avenue has to be explored.'
‘I've had another idea,' said Tessa. ‘It just occurred to me that if Mr … if Will—' she spoke his name rather shyly and he nodded at her encouragingly—‘is prepared to sell his property in Switzerland and we put the proceeds together with my trust we might just raise the money for Matron. We'd probably have to take out a small mortgage but I don't mind paying that if I can.'
The men looked at her in surprise. ‘I thought your trust didn't materialise for several years,' said James.
‘Two years,' said Tessa. ‘But do you think Matron might be prepared to wait if we asked her? She could use the house, of course, and perhaps we could pay her interest or something.' She shook her head. ‘I don't know the details but perhaps we might persuade her just to hang on. What d‘you think?'
‘It's not a bad idea,' said Will slowly. ‘Of course, she wants to buy her own place, doesn't she? She might not want to wait.'
‘I'll talk to her,' said James. ‘It might work. Certainly worth a try. But first I need all the details about this trust, Tessa.'
Will sat back in his chair whilst the other two talked, watching Tessa. It was interesting that neither he nor she had questioned for a single moment their compatibility to share the house. It would be fun, he thought, to have such a bright, cheerful girl around and he could look after the house during her absences; make sure that it was a warm welcoming place to which she could come home. Home; that was the word, thought Will. Perhaps that was the link between them.
They had both instinctively looked upon the cove as home; something neither of them had truly experienced. We must make it work, he thought. He was not yet prepared to admit to himself how important Isobel was to his plans but he was glad that Tessa had reacted as she had. Isobel belonged to the cove, too. She was part of the family …
Tessa had been unaware of Will's thoughts; she only knew that they were of the same mind and had been pleased to think that this man was her cousin, if a rather distant one. Now, as she lifted the tailgate so that Sidney and Harry could jump in, she thought about Will. She could see no reason why they shouldn't share the house. After all, it was a very big place for one girl who spent most of the time in other people's houses. To Tessa's young eyes Will, the wrong side of sixty, was much too old to be considering any romantic entanglements and she could imagine them settling down well together. He would have Isobel for company when she, Tessa, was dog-sitting and he had already professed himself willing to undertake much of the work which was needed to restore the house and bring it up to date.
The whole thing turned on Matron. Tessa, with boarding school not far behind her, had adopted James's name for Bea with no difficulty at all. Tessa imagined a severe, starched, difficult individual who would have no compunction in overturning her hopes and dreams. She drove the car into the ramshackle wooden garage which clung to the side of the small cottage, released the dogs and went inside to make herself some breakfast. Sidney followed her, collapsing on to his beanbag as though he had walked miles. He watched, nose on paws, as she fetched muesli and toasted bread and, unable to resist the hope in his eyes, she gave him another Bonio which he crunched with great gusto.
She heard the soft plop of letters on the mat and went out to fetch the post. Harry was barking at the postman and she opened the door to reprimand him, smiling an apology as she hauled Harry inside and slammed the door. Harry trotted into the kitchen and went at once to Sidney's beanbag to investigate the crumbs. Because of his soft mouth, Sidney was a messy eater and Harry obligingly cleaned up after him,
even licking round Sidney's jaws, much to the clumber's indignation. He looked to Tessa for support but she was opening an envelope. She had asked Cousin Pauline to forward her letters and, amongst them, was a postcard of Edinburgh Castle. She turned it over, puzzled. ‘Stuck up here in the frozen north,' ran Sebastian's scrawl. ‘How are things? Thanks for last time. See you soon.'
Tessa waited for the surge of excitement with which she had greeted Sebastian's missives over the years but it was not forthcoming. She felt a small glow of pleasure but it was oddly muted and she read the card again so as to work herself up to it. It was no use. Frowning, she looked through the rest of her post which consisted mainly of circulars, apart from a request from Mrs Carrington for a booking for Christmas and the New Year, and a letter from James. This was mainly to confirm all that she told him at their meeting in Plymouth, nevertheless she noted that her heart bumped much faster as she opened this envelope than it had when she'd read Sebastian's card.
As she sat down to her breakfast she castigated herself for putting the anxiety about the house above her love for Sebastian. Mentally she redesigned the house so that it could contain a married couple as well as Will. With Sebastian at sea and herself away so much, she was sure that it could be achieved without too much difficulty … Pushing her plates aside she folded her arms on the table and shook her head sadly. Marriage with Sebastian was as distant a dream as it had been when she was fourteen. Their day out together had been lovely but she was aware that, to him, she was still just a little sister. There was none of the excitement that should be there—well, certainly not on his part. It seemed that he needed to be partly drunk to feel that sort of thing.

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