Staverton (12 page)

I left Caroline lying on her bed with her headphones on, sick of her sulking. There was no point in staying here for a whole week if she was going to act like this. Caroline clearly regretted inviting me, and Lawrence couldn’t wait to get rid of me.

It was too late to get a train back to Scotland this afternoon, but I intended to tell Angela I wanted to go tomorrow morning.

As a last resort, I tried the kitchen. Magdalena was there, with her sleeves rolled up, kneading dough. She looked at me blankly when I asked if she knew where Angela was.

“Mrs. Harrington?” I gave a shrug.

“Ah, yes,” Magdalena said and gave me a knowing nod. She gestured for me to come over to the kitchen’s back door, then opened it, smiled and pointed outside.

I thanked her. I couldn’t see Angela, but I stepped outside anyway. Magdalena went back to her dough, and I followed a little path towards the back of the house and discovered a small vegetable garden. Angela, dressed in a faded pair of corduroy trousers and a loose pink shirt, was kneeling beside the herbs.

Angela looked up as I approached. “Lucy, how are you feeling today?”

With dirt smudged on her cheek, Angela didn’t look as cool and collected as usual. The clothes made a difference too. She seemed comfortable, more like a normal mother. She smiled, the smile reaching her eyes.

Angela set down the trowel and stood up, wincing slightly, “I’m getting too old for this, but I love it. I find it so relaxing.”

The smell of fresh mint lingered in the summer breeze.

“I’m fine now. I’m sorry I disturbed you and Lawrence last night.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Angela stretched, putting a hand in the small of her back. “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. If there is anything you want to talk about...” She shrugged. “Well, you can always come to me.”

“Thanks.” I looked down at the rows of carefully weeded mint, parsley and other green leaved herbs I didn’t recognise. “This must take a fair bit of work.”

“Actually, most of the herbs thrive easily. Good for the novice gardener to grow.” She plucked a couple of mint leaves, crushed them and held them up for me to smell. The menthol scent dominated the underlying hint of citrus.

Now I was here, I wasn’t really sure how to tell Angela I wanted to leave. Straight out with it, I thought, that’s the best way. “I’m thinking of leaving tomorrow, going back to Scotland.”

“Oh?” Angela pulled off her gardening gloves and looked at me. “Why don’t we sit down?” Angela pointed to an old stone bench at the far end of the vegetable patch, and we strolled over to it.

When we’d sat down, Angela banged her gloves against the stone seat to dislodge some of the dirt, then put them down on the seat beside her. “Now, why don’t you tell me what this is all about? Did you have a fight with Caroline?”

“We had a bit of an argument.”

Angela frowned. “What did Caroline say?”

“It wasn’t only her. It’s me as well. We bickered. It’s nothing serious, but I get the feeling she might appreciate some time with her family without me hanging around.”

“No, I’m sure that’s not true, she’s so happy you’re here. I’m sure it will have blown over by tonight. I’ll speak to her,” Angela said and smiled.

“It’s not only her.” I sneaked a sideways glance at Angela. “I know Mr. Harrington wants me to leave.”

“That’s not true, Lucy.”

“I overheard you talking last night. I heard him say he wanted me gone.”

“Oh, Lucy, Lawrence doesn’t want you to leave. It was something he said in the heat of the moment. I explained about your sleepwalking, and now he is perfectly happy for you to stay.”

I studied Angela’s face, looking for any signs she wasn’t telling the truth.

“Besides, you can’t leave us yet. I have a lovely surprise planned for you and Caroline at the weekend.” Angela reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’ll tell you what, give it a couple more days. If you and Caroline haven’t sorted things out by then, I’ll buy your train ticket back to Scotland.”

“If you’re sure I’m not getting in the way?”

“Of course you’re not. It is lovely to have you here. Now, what do you say? Do we have a deal?”

I smiled. “Okay, deal.”

***

Every afternoon between two and four, Caroline had her piano lesson. A private tutor had been summoned from London, and Caroline’s parents paid for his accommodation in the town centre all summer, just so he could teach Caroline.

The first day, while Caroline had her lesson, I occupied myself by weeding the herb garden with Angela. On the second day, I decided to go for a swim. It was the hottest day of the holiday so far, and the perfect afternoon to spend on the beach.

The sun beat down on the back of my neck as I walked down the dusty cliff path. When I finally reached the beach, I kicked off my sandals and peeled off my sundress, eager to take a swim.

The tide was out, and I had to walk along the wet sand to get to the sea. The waves rolled gently, and as my feet were immersed in the shallows, I was pleased to feel the water was far warmer today.

As I strode further out, the water temperature dropped dramatically, but I didn’t mind. It felt cool and delicious against my hot skin. I steered clear of the rocks Caroline had swum out to previously, and instead, swam towards the other side of the cove. The sea was still reasonably shallow, and so clear I could see the sandy sea bed and seaweed below. As I neared the edge of the cove, I noticed the rock formation just ahead of me.

I smiled with childish delight. When I was younger, I had always been fascinated by rock pools. I loved exploring the shallow pools and seeing the strange creatures living in them. With some difficulty, I pulled myself up onto the rock and grinned happily at the small pools between the cracks and crevices. I crouched down beside the first pool, which was lined with limpets and small anemones which looked like small, red, blobs of jelly.

I peered in for a closer look and saw a miniature starfish in the corner of the pool. As I moved to look in the next pool, a sudden splash startled me.

I whirled around to see Michael climbing up the rocks behind me. He wore red swimming shorts, and as water trickled down his body, so did my eyes.

It’s rude to stare, I reminded myself, and looked down at a piece of green, slimy seaweed by my foot.

“I thought it was you,” he said, smiling. “What are you up to?”

He seemed in a much better mood today.

“Looking at rock pools.” I pointed down at the pool at my feet.

He moved closer to take a look.

“I used to love rock pools when I was a kid,” he said. “Especially crabs. Did you see any?”

I shook my head.

He ran his hand back and forth through his hair, flicking drops of water over me.

“Hey,” I protested.

He grinned at me and tilted his head to one side. His eyes glinted dangerously. “You’re almost dry, Lucy. Maybe you’d like a hug?”

He held out his arms, playfully, water dripping from him, and I ducked away. “No.”

He chuckled. “Just a quick hug.”

I took a couple of steps backwards, not paying attention to where I was putting my feet. My left foot slipped against the wet rock, and the next thing I knew, I was falling backwards.

I heard Michael mutter a curse, then I hit the water. The cold was such a shock. I involuntarily gasped and swallowed some of the salt water.

I broke the surface coughing and spluttering.

There was a splash as Michael dived, and by the time I looked around, he was beside me. I felt his arms encircle my waist.

“Are you all right?” Michael whispered.

He had one arm around me, pulling me to him, while the fingers of his other hand brushed my hair back from my face.

I managed to nod. I should have pulled away and laughed it off, but I couldn’t. I was mesmerised.

Looking up into his anxious eyes, I saw his concern. Then my gaze travelled down to his mouth. I imagined what it would feel like to press my lips to his. For a moment, I thought he might kiss me, but he didn’t move.

His breathing seemed deeper, and I looked up again. The anxious look in his eyes had been replaced by longing. We were so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body.

I held my breath.

Then, suddenly, the spell was broken. Michael took a deep breath then created some distance between us.

“Are you sure you’re all right? I was only teasing.” His eyes were playful again, and I wondered if I imagined he wanted to kiss me.

“I’m fine,” I said, dizzy from the change in his mood.

“Will you be okay to swim back?” he asked, nodding in the direction of the beach.

“I think so.”

“Here,” he said and put my hands on his shoulders and winked at me. “I’ll give you a lift. It’s the least I can do after scaring you.”

“I wasn’t scared. I just lost my footing.”

“Ah, another woman throwing herself at my feet. I understand. It happens all the time,” he teased and started to swim for shore.

With my hands on his shoulders, I could feel his muscles work beneath my fingers. I let out a shaky breath, glad I didn’t have to swim back alone. I felt light-headed, and I wasn’t entirely sure it was down to my fall.

When we were out of the water, towelling ourselves off, I started to feel more like myself. I pulled my sundress over my damp swimming costume, and ran my hands through my hair in a futile attempt to untangle it.

“What’s the time?” I asked Michael after spotting his watch on the sand.

“Three-thirty.”

“I think I’ll walk back up to the house. Caroline’s lesson will be over soon.”

Michael fell into step beside me, chatting easily. He was definitely in a better mood today. After I told him I would be studying the history of art at St. Andrews in the autumn, he said something that made my heart skip a beat. I thought I was hearing things.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Our Degas. I guess Caroline hasn’t shown you.”

“A Degas,” I repeated, astounded. “You have a genuine Degas at Staverton?”

Michael grinned. “A tiny one. It’s in the study. I’ll show you.”

He grasped my hand and pulled me along as we crossed the lawn to the house. I was already slightly breathless from walking up the cliff path, and I tried to slow my breathing.

Michael still had hold of my hand as we entered the house, through the French doors.

We met Angela in the hallway.

“I’m showing Lucy the Degas,” Michael said, striding past her as he pulled me along behind him.

Angela smiled, but as her gaze dropped to our linked hands, her expression cooled. Under her disapproving glare, I gently slipped my hand from Michael’s grasp.

Inside the study, the air was cool. As I entered, I was distracted by the large, mahogany desk. In the daylight, the atmosphere didn’t feel menacing at all. It was hard to believe Gwen and Jake had been in here, on that very desk...

“So what do you think?” Michael asked.

I looked at the sketch on the wall in front of him. It was exquisite. Degas had captured a ballerina in the fifth position. Every detail was crystal clear, the frills on the dancer’s dress, the expression on her face...

“It’s breathtaking,” I said. “There’s so much detail in such a tiny sketch.”

Fascinated, I moved closer for a better look. After a moment, I turned to Michael and saw he was staring at me intently.

“There you are,” Caroline said, entering the study. “What on earth are you doing in here?”

“I was showing Lucy the Degas,” Michael said.

“Oh,” Caroline said, looking unimpressed. She linked her arm through mine. “Come on, let’s do something fun. That two-hour piano lesson has made me feel like my brain’s about to explode.”

***

Michael didn’t stay at Staverton for dinner that night, so the following day, I was anxious to see him again. After Caroline was summoned for her lesson, I sat on the beach, looking up at the cliff path, but he didn’t show up. Feeling sorry for myself, I walked along the beach, stopping every now and then to pick up pretty shells. I was so intent on examining a delicate, pearly, pink shell, I didn’t notice Gwen until she was only a few feet away.

Perfectly made up as always, Gwen wore a fifties-style tea dress and carried her gold sandals in one hand. Gwen invited me back to her house for a cold drink. I knew Caroline would be annoyed if I accepted the offer, but my curiosity made me accept. I wanted to know more about Gwen, and I still believed Jake and Gwen had been together that night.

I didn’t expect Gwen to break down and confess, but I did think I might find out something.

Malcolm and Gwen’s house was more modern than Staverton, and not as large, but still luxurious.

Gwen led me into the kitchen, stopping briefly to dust the sand from the soles of her feet.

“Would you like a juice? I make my own.”

I turned in a circle, taking in the kitchen. Gleaming pots and pans hung above the cooker, and the kitchen surfaces were lined with shiny stainless steel gadgets. “You make it yourself?”

“With this.” Gwen patted a metal and black contraption. “You stick the fruit in here.” Gwen took off the black lid and pointed down a tube. “Then the juice comes out here.” She slid a glass under the nozzle. “How about apple juice?”

While Gwen chopped up the fruit with a sharp knife, I watched her with surprise. I hadn’t pictured Gwen as a domestic goddess, but here she was making her own apple juice, rather than buying a carton at the supermarket.

“I didn’t think you’d be the domestic type,” I said, looking at a shelf of recipe books.

Gwen shrugged. “I like it. It gives me something to do during the day when Malcolm is at work.”

Gwen dumped the diced apple into the machine, pressed the switch, which produced a grinding noise, and cloudy apple juice spurted out of the nozzle. Gwen dropped a couple of ice cubes in the glass and handed it to me. “What do you think?”

I took a sip. It was sharp and refreshing. “Lovely, thanks.”

We took our drinks out to the terrace.

“I envy you,” I said. “Look at that view.” I nodded towards the sea.

Gwen smiled. “It is lovely.”

I sensed there was a but attached to that sentence. “Do you miss home? America, I mean.”