The Dream House (49 page)

‘And the story of the baby?’

‘Heartbreaking. And cruel. Poor Agnes.’

‘Do you think I’ve missed anything, Max? It’s so useful having another perspective. Did you spot any clues that I haven’t?’

‘Nothing leaped to the eye, no. Except the missing locket, I suppose. Was it just a coincidence it disappeared at the time of the birth?’

‘Agnes didn’t say it was exactly at the time of the birth, did she? Perhaps Miss Selcott took it out of spite.’ Then Kate remembered. ‘Max, there’s something I haven’t told you! It’s something I only realized, though, when I found the last bit of the diary.’ And she went on to tell him about buying Harry’s half of the locket in the curio shop in Norwich.

He was amazed. ‘
Really?
I’d love to see it.’

‘Well, you can.’ And Kate delved in her handbag and handed it across the table.

He studied it carefully, turned it over and frowned at the faded photograph. Then he handed it back. ‘It’s not exactly pretty, is it? But interesting, very distinctive. I know the shop where you found it, actually. I bought Claudia a Lea Stein brooch once there. They have some later pieces, as well as the Art Deco stuff, you know. That you should walk in off the street and find it is an incredible coincidence.’

‘Only if you view the situation with hindsight,’ said Kate, carefully stowing the necklace in her bag again. ‘If you look at it chronologically, I think it was the locket that helped draw me into this situation in the first place.’

She had told nobody about her dreams, not even Agnes. Not since Simon had ridiculed her visions of the ‘dream house’. Although she knew she must have seen the photograph of the house when she was a child, but had buried it in her subconscious all these years, why should it have emerged in her dream precisely after buying the locket? Perhaps it was time to give the locket a proper place in the narrative. And Max, after all, had some right to know: Agnes’s story was partly his story, too. So she told him, stumbling with embarrassment at first, about how she had dreamed about Seddington House, and about her vivid dreams after reading the diaries.

She remembered the words of the last letter that Agnes had sent Harry, together with his half of the locket.
When you look on this locket, may you dream of me . . .

‘I know it sounds complete tosh, Max,’ she finished, ‘but whether it’s to do with the locket, the diary or Agnes herself, there’s some sort of psychological connection going on here. I can’t explain it any further.’

Max, who had left his terrine untouched to concentrate on Kate’s story, said nothing for a moment. Then he took a gulp of wine and put his glass down.

‘When I was at school,’ he said, ‘I used to dream sometimes about places I hadn’t been to. And then – it might not be for ages afterwards – I’d visit somewhere and think: I’ve been here before! They would be quite ordinary places – once it was an old house in Cambridge that had been turned into a museum. I was certain I’d been there once, but not when it was a museum. And yet my father assured me he and Mum had never taken me there.’ He shook his head, remembering. ‘Another time it was a beach. I have never told anybody this,’ he confided, ‘but at the time I almost started to believe that perhaps I
ha
d
been to these places before –
bu
t in another life
. Sounds ridiculous now, doesn’t it?’ He broke into a smile. ‘I expect it was adolescent hormones playing tricks. Anyway, what I’m saying is that I don’t disbelieve you.’

‘Thank you.’ It was such a relief to have told someone about her dreams and for that person not to have laughed at her.

‘I’m not sure where all this leaves us now, though,’ said Max, finally taking his terrine as Kate started to spoon her soup. ‘Assuming the baby didn’t die, but that Selcott, probably with the help of Lister, sent it away somewhere . . . God!’ He put down his fork. ‘That’s horrible. You don’t suppose they would have killed it, do you? Killed it and buried it?’

Kate’s spoon dropped in the bowl, splattering soup over the white cloth. ‘Surely not. I know the governess was cruel to Agnes, but she believed herself to be an upright Christian woman. That would have been against all her beliefs, killing a child. No, I can’t believe it, even of her.’

‘Let’s hope you’re right. OK, so she and Lister gave the baby away. Where do you go in a little country village to give a baby away?’

‘It implies local knowledge, doesn’t it? Kate said thoughtfully. ‘Knowing someone who had lost a child, or wanted a child, who would take the baby right away, no questions asked, and keep its origins secret.’

‘Selcott might have known someone like that, more likely it was Lister.’

‘I suppose it might not even have been in Seddington. I wonder where Lister lived, when he wasn’t at Seddington House, I mean.’

‘I’ve no idea how we find out,’ Max said.

As the waiter came and removed their plates, discreetly arranging a napkin over the spilled soup, Kate watched Max, who seemed lost in thought. Their main courses arrived and their glasses were refilled. Max looked up.

‘Looks delicious, doesn’t it?’ They had both chosen locally caught fish. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘I’m just amused by how interested you’re getting in this mystery now. Having accused me of being obsessed, I mean.’

‘It’s a mystery about our own family, that’s why. And my aunt’s anguish comes across so strongly in her writing. Yes, I can see why you want to make things right, Kate.’

They had started eating, but after a couple of mouthfuls, Max put down his knife and fork and steepled his fingers.

‘Kate,’ he said, his expression serious, ‘there is one thing those diaries have really made me see, and that is why Agnes left you Seddington House and not me.’

‘Oh,’ she said, relieved but not sure what to say.

‘I know my aunt tried her best to be friendly to me these last few years, and I know she was a fair person, too. She didn’t blame me for the actions of her brother, but at the same time, it would have been a difficult thing to flout her father’s memory, wouldn’t it? To leave the house to a child of the son who had betrayed him so fundamentally, and whom he had cut out of his own will. And you’re right – I
do
look like Raven. What I mean to say is, that I accept the way she wanted things. I will not be challenging her will.’

‘Thank you,’ Kate said simply. Then wondered if she should tell him about Simon’s claim. She thought she would. He was a lawyer. It wasn’t his specialist area, but she would still be interested in his opinion.

Max listened quietly as she related how Simon’s lawyer was now using Seddington House as a bargaining point to enable Simon to keep the capital from the sale of their Fulham house as well as other savings and any claim on his pension.

‘It’s very difficult to untangle before the will is proved,’ Raj had sent all the forms off to the probate office last week and it was now a waiting game, ‘but Jasmin’s point is that the inheritance was left to me, not to Simon, and that anyway, I hadn’t received it at the point separation proceedings were initiated. Jasmin thinks that Simon hasn’t got a viable claim on the bequest, but that my future wealth would be taken into consideration when it comes to the division of property from our marriage.’ Kate shrugged as she put her knife and fork together on the plate.

‘It must be incredibly stressful for you, all this.’ Max reached over and gently squeezed her hand.

‘It is, and yet I’m trying to be philosophical about the house,’ she said, withdrawing her hand. ‘It’s the children who are most important to me at the moment. Sam in particular gets very upset when I take them up to see Simon. He seems to enjoy being with his father once he’s there, but he finds going very stressful. Daisy thinks it’s quite exciting, having two homes, but once the excitement wears off, she might become resentful. At least Simon is reasonable over the children. I think a lot of the financial stuff is to do with his lawyer rather than him. Jasmin keeps telling me not to take it all too personally, that this is what lawyers do.’

Kate paused, then went on, ‘And I’ve been thinking a lot about the house. I love it, but there’s a huge amount to do to it, to make it right for modern family life. It’ll be very expensive, and it’s going to be a big job dealing with all the contents. And we still don’t know, do we, exactly who is going to get what.’

‘Agnes’s descendants have to declare themselves within six months of her death, don’t they? Which is mid-January, I believe – two and a half months away.’

‘It seems ages. I feel for you, too, Max, not knowing.’

‘I feel for me, too,’ he grinned. ‘If someone comes out of the woodwork and claims to be Agnes’s lost son, I don’t get a penny.’

‘And yet you seem quite caught up in the story.’

‘Yes, I am, but I must be truthful and say I’m just not going to try too hard to find the answer to the mystery. You’re on your own there, Kate.’

‘I don’t blame you.’ She smiled.

‘Coffee for both of us,’ Max told the waiter, as Kate declined the dessert menu. When the coffee came, he slowly took off his glasses and cleaned them on his handkerchief. He said to Kate, very casually, ‘I’ve really enjoyed this evening. Shall we do it again sometime?’

Their eyes met. Kate noticed the boyish lock of hair that fell across Max’s forehead, how vulnerable he looked without the barrier of his spectacles, the contrast of the strong jaw and the sensitive mouth. Now that she had got past his brusque exterior there was something very familiar about him. Aren’t women supposed to fall for men who remind them of their fathers, their brothers? she thought. But she had never had a brother, not even a close male cousin. The son her mother had lost – perhaps he would have been like Max. She felt affection for Max, but it wasn’t desire. She and Max should be close, but not like that. So in the end she said, ‘Why don’t you bring the little girls over for lunch one Sunday when Sam and Daisy are home. They’d love to meet their – what are they?’ Kate stopped and drew a little family tree on a scrap of paper she pulled out of her bag. ‘Your girls and I are third cousins, so they are my children’s third cousins once removed.’ She pushed the paper over to Max with a flourish.

Max replaced his glasses and peered at the paper for a moment. Then he nodded and smiled. ‘Let’s just say cousins. Anyway, it’s a brilliant idea to let them meet,’ he said. ‘Let’s do that.’

December 2004

A warm wet autumn gave way to a warm wet winter. One night in early December Kate lay awake in darkness listening to heavy rain beating on the roof of Paradise Cottage. It was a sound she had taken a while to get used to when they first came to live with Joyce, and even now she loved to remember that only a few thin layers of plaster and thatch separated her upturned face from open sky.

The grandmother clock downstairs gently pinged five o’clock, an irritating time to be awake in the darkest part of winter. Too early to get up, too late to go back into a deep sleep and be dragged awake at seven with a thick head when there was a busy day ahead. Kate and Joyce were helping Jasmin with the costumes for the school nativity play in which Daisy was a snowflake and Sam a king. First fittings were due to start at nine o’clock.

So Kate lay and turned over in her mind the news she had received yesterday. Jasmin had telephoned and read out a letter from Simon’s Rottweiler lawyer that had made Kate almost drop the phone with relief.

Simon had finally conceded Kate’s right to her inheritance. Seddington House was not to be taken into account in any settlement. In addition, she would receive a large part of the capital sum accrued from the sale of the Fulham house. The chattels they must divide up between them.

Kate knew that the details had still to be battled out, but at least a basic financial agreement was now in place, she was beginning to realize what great stress she had been under. She didn’t feel elation, or even peace of mind. The devastation of Simon’s betrayal and desertion was too recent for that. Every time she saw him, when she delivered the children, was a painful reminder of her loss. But, rather like the survivor of a shipwreck who has struggled his way to the shore, battered but alive, she felt a deep exhausted gratitude for her survival and a tiny flutter of hope. Now she could begin to move on.

Shortly after Jasmin’s call, Raj had rung Kate.

‘Farrell’s has sent a list of the paintings they recommend we sell,’ he said. ‘I’m putting it in the post to you.’ Two weeks before, he, Kate and Max had met with the probate officers. The will would be proved and the executors granted authority to act, once inheritance tax had been paid. The sum seemed huge, but after consultation with the accountant they had decided not to contest it. It would mean selling right away a dozen of the most valuable of Agnes’s pictures, together with the jewellery.

‘We are lucky,’ went on Raj. ‘Sometimes discussions about the value of a large estate can go on for months. Farrell’s have helped make it very simple for us. Once we have settled this tax bill we can start paying out the bequests.’

Debbie and Dan had been right. Back in the summer when Kate had felt so overwhelmed by the changes in her life, the end of her marriage, the loss of Agnes, the burden of putting the old lady’s affairs in order, they had both told her that things would work themselves out. And instead of being overwhelmed by depression she had found inner resources of strength and determination she hadn’t known she possessed. And gradually she was coming through the worst of it.

Her greatest pleasure was that, despite these seismic events, or perhaps partly because of them, the long winter of her own relationship with her parents was finally thawing, and here and there were signs of a long-awaited spring.

Kate had taken Daisy and Sam to visit her mother and father two weekends before and was astonished. Barbara was now regularly seeing a consultant psychiatrist, a young woman with particular expertise in the area of depression. The combination of new medication and sessions with a cognitive therapist were already making a marked difference.