Second Time Around (5 page)

Read Second Time Around Online

Authors: Marcia Willett

BOOK: Second Time Around
12.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
‘That sounds fraught with difficulties,' said Isobel, pouring the tea and feeling more nervous by the minute. ‘They could hardly be
expected to live here all together. Surely they'd simply sell it all up and divide the spoils?'
‘You may well be right.' Mathilda looked at her papers thoughtfully. ‘We are not a particularly
fruitful
family,' she observed. ‘Perhaps there will be no one left to inherit after all.'
 
ISOBEL CARRIED THE TRAY down the two flights of stairs and set it on the wooden draining board. She felt frightened and lonely; what would happen to her with Mathilda gone? She stared at the blackberries and suddenly remembered the flesh fly. With an exclamation of disgust she heaved the whole lot into the pedal bin and, sitting down at the table, put her head in her hands. She tried to imagine Mathilda's descendants arriving at the cove; going all over the house with an eye to its value, laughing at its old-fashioned kitchen and deciding to turn the house and cottage—not to mention the boathouse—into a kind of holiday park. In her mind's eye she could see it; the house split up into letting units; the cottage frizzed and powdered into the kind of twee ‘fisherman's cott' one saw in the glossy brochures. The boathouse with its huge attic room where Professor Rainbird had once worked would be ideal for keeping sailing dinghies and sailboards, as well as a launch—but not Mathilda's old boat—for trips along the coast. She could imagine children on the small stone pier and the cove resounding to their shouts. Even the long winding drive would no doubt be laid down to tarmac and proper garages built into the cliffs behind the house where the Morris now lived in solitary splendour.
Isobel wiped away a tear or two and sighed. Whatever happened would have to be faced. Perhaps she could raise the money to buy the cottage … Perhaps Mathilda might be right when she said that, after all, there might be no one left to inherit.
 
 
TESSA RAINBIRD SAT AT the small table in the little back bedroom of a house in Shepherd's Bush. This had been her home almost ever since her parents and small brother had been gassed to death when a volcano erupted in the Cameroons where her father was working as a petrochemical consultant. At the time Tessa had been at her school in England but even now, eleven years on, she suffered nightmares in which she was desperately trying to save her adored baby brother. Sometimes the nightmare took the form of wreckage, amongst which she crawled whilst explosions and screams reverberated about her. At other times the nightmare had that well-known quality of helplessness: her legs refused to run, her voice died in her throat, and she was unable to warn her brother or her parents or rescue them from their terrible fate.
Her mother's second cousin had stepped into the breach when Tessa's paternal grandmother died two years after the accident. Tessa's father was an only child but her mother, whose parents were dead, had a sister in New Zealand who had offered to care for Tessa. Tessa could barely remember her aunt and dreaded leaving England and the friends she had made at school who had been so kind to her during these years. At last it was decided that she should stay on at her boarding school and go to Cousin Pauline in the holidays. She was already elderly; a quiet, gentle woman who watched a great deal of television and was no companion for a thirteen-year-old. Gradually
Tessa began to accept more of the invitations to stay for the holidays which issued from her friends, and spent very little time at the terraced house in Cobbold Road. She knew that Cousin Pauline had taken her out of duty rather than love and, though she was grateful, Tessa knew that her presence was not an advantage except as a pair of young legs and hands to help with the household tasks.
When Rachel Anderson arrived at the school on the south coast the two girls took to each other at once. Rachel, a warm-hearted, eager girl, was horrified at Tessa's tragic history whilst Tessa was immediately drawn to the family to whom Rachel belonged. Her father was a naval officer, her mother a natural homemaker—wherever she was posted with her husband—and the small twins were the same age that Tessa's brother, Timmy, would have been had he lived. As for Sebastian … At seventeen he was the most handsome young man she had ever seen. Tall, fair-haired, hazel-eyed, he treated her just as he did his younger siblings; he teased them, hugged them and for the most part ignored them. Tessa, who had so desperately missed family life, was enchanted by the Andersons and never refused an invitation to stay.
By the time she was seventeen she was wondering what she should do with her life. She could see that a university degree was not the passport to a career that it had once been and she knew that she was not brilliant enough to be one of the lucky few who, in these difficult times, found jobs easily. Once again it was through the Andersons, who gave her help and encouragement, that she discovered, quite out of the blue, what it was she really wanted to do. At the end of the spring term Rachel received a letter from home.
‘Doom and gloom,' she announced to Tessa, with whom she shared a study. ‘The dog lady can't come, apparently. She's broken her ankle and Granny's down with flu. Looks like our holiday's up the spout.'
‘Dog lady?' Tessa knew that the Andersons were going skiing as soon as school broke up for Easter.
‘You know,' said Rachel. ‘The woman who dog-sits when we go
away. Mummie's quite desperate. It's the first leave that Daddy's had for ages that fits in with school holidays.'
There was a silence whilst Rachel read her letter and Tessa was visited by an exciting answer to the Andersons' problem. She thought it through carefully.
‘I've had a thought,' she said at last. ‘Is there any reason why I couldn't do it? After all, Baggins and I are old friends. I'd be quite happy to look after him.'
Rachel had stared at her for a few moments, letting the idea sink in. ‘Brilliant!' she'd said. ‘Fantastic! Are you sure? It's a great idea. I'll phone Mummie.'
That was how it had started. During those quiet weeks in the Andersons' house Tessa began to see how she could earn her living. She adored dogs, preferred the country to the town and never minded her own company. She still missed her parents and her brother quite dreadfully but she had already learned that it is better to be alone than to be with the wrong people.
Sebastian and Rachel approached the suggestion of her new career with their usual enthusiasm. Sebastian immediately drew up a list of naval families who might require her services and Mrs Anderson recommended Tessa to these friends and wrote a glowing reference. In the following year—her last at school—she had four jobs during the holidays and a growing clientele.
Now, at twenty-two, she worked almost two-thirds of the year. Between jobs she came back to London but she longed for a little place of her own. Her work took her all over the south and west so it was difficult to decide where she might base herself and whatever she chose to rent would be empty for the greater part of each year. The money from her father's estate would come to her when she was twenty-five but it was by no means a large sum. It had paid for her education—which included driving lessons—and her trustees had advanced enough for her to buy an estate car so that the dogs could be taken for walks or to the vet in an emergency—owners did not
always leave transport available—but meanwhile she lived on the interest which was paid quarterly. It amounted in all to approximately two thousand pounds a year, which came in very useful.
Tessa bent thoughtfully over her diary. The weeks were filling up very satisfactorily and tomorrow she was off to Devon; a week on Dartmoor. She sighed with pleasure. Kate and David Porteous were probably her favourite clients. David was an artist—an RA—who often went to London whilst Kate tried to juggle their lives between their town house and the country. Kate, who once had been married to a naval officer, knew the Andersons very well and had been quite willing to give Tessa a try. It had been one of Tessa's earliest jobs and she was desperate to do well. She took at once to Kate's large golden retriever, Felix, fell in love with the moor, and now Kate was a regular client.
Tessa shut her diary, picked up her bag and ran downstairs. She had promised to go to the Spar shop in the Uxbridge Road and it was very nearly lunchtime. She put her head into the sitting room, where Cousin Pauline was watching
Neighbours
, told her where she was going and went out into Cobbold Road. As she hurried along, crossing by the library and turning right by the Askew Arms, she was barely aware of her surroundings. Only one thought sustained her; tomorrow she would be in Devon.
 
AS SHE DROVE OUT through Ashburton and headed for the moor, Tessa was thinking of Sebastian. This was not unusual; Tessa spent most of her time thinking or dreaming about Sebastian. From those earliest days she had been in love with him and she had plenty of hours in which to weave fantasies about him. Yet it was fairly clear that, fond of her though he was, Tessa was little more to him than Rachel's friend. At one time, when he was at university, Tessa believed that their friendship had blossomed into love. He had invited her to a party in London and they had both drunk too much. She had told her love and he had very
kindly and considerately relieved her of her virginity. Afterwards she wished that she could remember more about it but the act alone convinced her that he must love her, too.
This sadly had not proved to be the case. He was still as affectionate as he had always been but nothing, it seemed, had changed. Tessa had been shocked and then desperate. Had she thrown herself at him? Had he been just using her? She could hardly ask Rachel, frightened that she might confront Sebastian, and there was no one else in whom she could really confide. Sebastian put things right himself.
‘Are you OK, kiddo?' he'd asked, next time they'd met. ‘I hope you're not angry with me. It just seemed the natural thing to do at the time. The first time is rather important for a girl, isn't it? And I wouldn't like you to be hurt or anything like that by some insensitive lout.'
She'd swallowed and nodded; her experience did not allow for this kind of conversation.
‘Well then.' He bent and kissed her lightly and instinctively her arms went out to hold him. ‘That's all right. But don't drink too much at parties.'
So that was that; but Tessa had not stopped loving him. One day, she was quite convinced of it, he would suddenly realise that he'd loved her all along. Meanwhile she dreamed about him.
She passed Ausewell Cross and a few minutes later was pulling in at the Roundhouse at Buckland-in-the-Moor. She always got up on to the moor as quickly as she could and the Roundhouse was always her first stop. She climbed out of the car and stretched, sniffing at the wind that blew across the hills. The Roundhouse, with its little shop and gallery of artists' studios, was attached to the farm and three generations of Perrymans—if you included young Colin who helped out in emergencies—ran it all. She wondered if Mrs Perryman would be around or whether one of her twin daughters—or perhaps both—would be working today. She looked forward to seeing their friendly
smiles and hearing their soft Devon voices just as much as she longed for the delicious coffee. Tessa smiled to herself with anticipation; she felt exactly as though she were coming home.
 
‘THE USUAL DRAMAS!' ANNOUNCED Kate when Tessa had settled into the big Victorian house on the edge of Whitchurch Down. ‘Felix has cut his pad and David has left half his belongings behind. Oh, and I think I've found you a new customer.'
‘Oh great!' Tessa sat at the kitchen table stroking Felix, who had come to lean against her. ‘Who is it?'
‘Hang on, I've written it down somewhere.' Kate leafed distractedly through the muddle on the table. ‘They're over towards Ivybridge way. Two labradors. Here we are. Carrington. She's a widow, rather elderly, who likes to visit her daughter in the Midlands. Dear old thing she is and the dogs are very well trained and far too fat and idle to do anything antisocial like running away. I'm sure you'll get on very well.'
‘Thanks, Kate.' Tessa inspected the piece of paper which Kate pushed across to her. ‘I need all the help I can get.'
Kate looked down at the feathery blonde hair cut short and the neat little face with the wonderfully expressive golden eyes; lion's eyes. She admired Tessa who was making such an effort to create a decent career for herself, despite a lack of family to support and encourage her. Sue Anderson had told Kate all about Tessa's past.
‘She's an absolute sweetie,' Sue had said. ‘We all love her. She longs for a family. It's quite heartrending, really. Nothing but some old aunt who watches the box all day long. We met her at the school once. Poor Tessa.'
‘I've heard that you're doing splendidly,' Kate said now, giving Tessa's shoulder a little squeeze. ‘Give Mrs Carrington a buzz while you're here and then go over and see her. You'll love Romulus and Remus.'
Tessa burst out laughing. ‘Really?' she asked. ‘Romulus and Remus? Good grief!'
‘The breeder was having a Roman period, apparently,' said Kate.
‘At least Mrs Carrington didn't choose Ptolemy or Nero. One must be grateful for small mercies.'
Tessa grinned up at her. ‘It's nice to be back,' she said.
 
LATER, AFTER SHE'D DRIVEN Kate into Plymouth to catch the train, Tessa took the limping Felix for a little stroll. The late October sunshine was warm on her shoulders and she restrained an urge to run and shout. These huge spaces filled her with a sense of freedom and she took great lungfuls of air, still hardly able to believe her good fortune. She might have been stuck in an office somewhere—or in a shop. What luck to have fallen into this job and to have such good friends to help her! Tessa paused to pat Felix, who hobbled beside her, and then turned to the car: she mustn't let him overdo it.
Back at the house, she unpacked and began to settle herself in properly. She always had the little spare room which she had almost come to look upon as her own and, having put her things away, she made her usual tour of the house. Everything was in order and with a sigh of contentment she went into the kitchen and pushed the kettle on to the Rayburn. Felix, stretched on his rug in the corner, watched her, his tail beating a tattoo on the floor. She went to him, crouching beside him and stroking him.
‘She'll be back soon,' Tessa told him. ‘Don't worry.'
He stretched himself out contentedly and she got up and wandered round the kitchen, peering into the fridge, checking the larder—Kate was always very generous—and pausing before her favourite painting; a moorland scene done by David himself. It was of a bridge over the River Dart and a part of the bank with a group of foxgloves glowing against the sun-warmed stone. The light danced on the water and, in the corner of the picture some words were scrawled, partly obscured by the mounting: ‘Bless you for everything. It's been perfect.' The rest of the writing was too hidden to read. The painting never ceased to hold her attention and engage her emotions. Presently a new frame on the dresser caught
her eye and she picked it up curiously. It was a photograph of two young men. Tessa had often seen photographs of Kate's twins from her first marriage. They were dotted about the house; in Kate's bedroom on her chest of drawers; in a montage of family photographs in a frame in the downstairs loo; in the bedroom—which was obviously kept ready for them—standing on the bedside table. There were the twins as babies at either end of a huge pram; the twins as toddlers, each clasping the other's hand on a beach; the twins as small boys in uniform, going off to school. This, however, was a very recent one. Tessa stared at it. They were very alike—both tall and dark—but one looked more serious, almost forbidding, frowning a little; the other smiled, his eyes crinkled against the sun, his hands dug deep in his pockets.

Other books

Savage by Kat Austen
Vigil by Saunders, Craig, Saunders, C. R.
Panhandle by Brett Cogburn
Blood Dance by Lansdale, Joe R.
Change of Heart by Jude Deveraux
The Cedar Cutter by Téa Cooper
The Fighter's Block by Quinn, Hadley
Rebound by Joseph Veramu
Endless by Jessica Shirvington