The Dream House (51 page)

‘It’s a country-house sale, really,’ explained Deirdre. ‘Made into a big community event. Sounds a great idea, Jacqui.’

‘The Melton family were so well known,’ went on Jacqui, ‘that there’d be a huge amount of local interest.’

‘What, buy a piece of the Meltons?’ Alison joked.

‘Why not?’ said Deirdre. ‘Of course, you’d get Farrell’s to do it all for you. They would publicize it to the big dealers, too. And if you timed it right, you’d get the London green welly brigade down here on their summer hols, as well.’

Kate listened, resting her chin on her hand, her eyes shining with amusement.

‘Don’t let them bully you,’ Dan whispered in her ear.

‘Oh no, don’t worry, I won’t. It’s something to think about, though, isn’t it?’ she replied. ‘A people’s auction. You know, I reckon that would rather have appealed to Agnes.’

At the end of the evening, Dan helped Kate into her coat and walked her back to her car. He didn’t say much, he seemed to have something on his mind. They stood in the poorly lit car park while Kate fumbled for her key.

‘Goodbye, Dan,’ she whispered and kissed him gently on the cheek. He let her, without responding.

‘You take care,’ he said as she got into the car, then, as she started the engine, he waved before slipping away into the darkness.

Overwhelmed by a sudden sense of desolation, Kate let the engine stall. She sat in the car park watching the shadows and thought.

She knew now that she loved Dan. She still hurt about Simon, hurt abominably, just as she supposed that Dan must hurt about Linda. But she felt she was herself with Dan. He was rock-like and that was important to her. She could rely on him, she just knew it. And her body longed for his. Did he feel like this about her? She had thought he did this evening, had just felt it to be so, that they were dancing that same slow dance together, but now he had said goodbye, so abruptly, had left her almost without hope.

This was silly. She was acting like a teenager, she thought, starting the engine with such a savage movement that the starter motor roared.

‘I know it had to have happened sooner or later, but why couldn’t he have asked me first? I could have explained to the children about it then.’

It was the following Monday and Kate, who had had another bad night, stomped round the kitchen banging cupboard doors and slamming drawers as she cleared up after breakfast. ‘And giving them presents, too. I mean that’s just craven, buying their affection. Look out, you’re losing everything.’

Joyce was sitting at the table, tidying out her handbag to look for a receipt she had lost, fluffy paracetamol and elderly rolls of lipstick rolling on to the floor.

‘Thanks, dear. Oh, it must be here somewhere . . . I don’t blame you for being cross, Kate. But they don’t seem very traumatized by meeting Meredith, do they?’

‘You mean it’s just me?’ Joyce was diplomatically silent and Kate slumped into a seat and glowered.

‘Well, of course you’re upset, dear. Anyone would be in your position. But children take things in their stride more.’

‘Especially if a big red fire engine and a portable CD player are involved.’

Suddenly everything Liz said two nights ago made sense.

Liz, Claire and Kate had met up on Saturday evening at Claire’s little flat in Greenwich overlooking the high street after Kate had left the children with Simon. It was a short weekend for Daisy and Sam to share with their father – he had been off travelling again the previous week and he looked strained and exhausted.

Claire, also, seemed tired and hollow-eyed. Seven and a half months into her pregnancy, she was still an astonishingly neat figure in her bootleg-cut maternity jeans and jacket, her bump entirely presenting to the front like a football.

‘Look at you.’ Liz almost wept with envy. ‘I was a beached whale by this stage with the twins. You’ve hardly put on any weight at all. Are you eating, you wretched girl?’

‘I still feel so nauseous sometimes,’ Claire moaned. Kate privately thought anxiety over Alex couldn’t help. They were still seeing one another but Claire confided in them, ‘He’s just not interested in the baby. Part of him is pretending it’s not happening. Of course, he can’t ignore it entirely.’ She giggled suddenly. ‘You should have seen the look of horror on his face the other evening when I was in the bath and this little foot pushed up out of my belly and started wriggling. He thought it was a rerun of
Alien
.’ She sighed. ‘But he won’t talk about names or show any interest in buying things for the baby.’

‘What’s the due date again?’

‘Tenth of February, but they might have to induce before then. I’ve been getting a bit of high blood pressure, you see, and the baby is slightly small for the dates. The consultant says I’ve got to be careful and rest, so I’ve been cutting down on my work a bit and getting taxis. Anyway, I don’t feel too bad. My sister’s pestering me to go and stay with them, but I’d rather be here. She’ll come to the hospital with me when the time comes, that’s the important thing.’

As they tucked into a vegetarian lasagne, Liz surprised them all by saying she thought she’d be handing in her notice soon.

‘They’re pushing the magazine to places it shouldn’t go,’ she said. ‘It’s a mistake to aim too squarely for the mass market.
Desira
has always had an edge, a smallish but defined market. It can’t compete out there with
Cosm
o
and
Company
. It just won’t work and I won’t do it.’

‘So what will you do?’ Kate asked her, as they cleared the table and moved to the little sitting room with their coffee.

‘I might spend some time at home for a bit. Freelance and hope something comes up. I need to take a leaf out of your book, Kate, see a bit more of the children. Lottie’s having some problems at school. She always feels she comes second to Lily and has difficulty making friends. I need to be meeting her out of school for a while, seeing that she’s OK. What about you, Kate? Have you had any thoughts about work? Or can you afford to just lie back and be châtelaine?’

‘I wish. But there’s still so much to sort out. I’m putting off the evil work decision for a bit till we’re more settled.’

Later on, Liz said, ‘By the way, Ted came round the other night for supper. Do you know, I think he might finally have cracked things on the girl front? His new girlfriend’s Czech. She was a teacher there and has come over to learn English. He met her at an evening class. They’re absolutely starry-eyed over each other.’ She shook her head in amusement. ‘Laurence’s mum is practically knitting matinée jackets for their unborn children. Why is it that mothers always want their children married off?’

‘Especially when it then all goes wrong,’ said Kate gloomily.

‘Ah, yes,’ said Liz and was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment. Then she said, ‘Ted told me something interesting about Meredith.’

Kate tried to look as though Liz was talking about the price of tomatoes.

‘She was in a relationship for five years, apparently. And it broke up because they tried to have children and it didn’t happen. They even started fertility treatment, but the whole thing was too much of a strain. The bloke got married to someone else who promptly got pregnant. Awfully sad for Meredith.’

‘Strangely enough, I have difficulty finding much sympathy for her,’ said Kate.

‘But it does explain her interest in Daisy and Sam,’ Liz said. ‘Ted says she’s always talking about them.’

‘She hasn’t met Daisy and Sam,’ snorted Kate. ‘Simon and I agreed. I said he’s got to wait until they’re used to us being apart.’

‘From what Ted says, I think you’ll find he hasn’t waited,’ said Liz gently.

So when she collected the children the following afternoon she mouthed at Simon fiercely, ‘I’ll ring you.’ And when she casually asked the children on the train home, they chattered away about the treats they had had with ‘Daddy’s friend’ and the presents she had given them to keep at the flat.

‘I think you’ve just got to get used to it, Kate,’ sighed Joyce now. ‘We’ve got to move on.’

W
e’v
e got to move on
. The words echoed in Kate’s mind. Yes, she knew they all had to move on, but other people were moving on faster than she was. Simon was moving on, the children were moving on, even Joyce appeared to be accepting what had happened and moving on to the new. Kate was left behind, still mourning. Maybe it was time for her to look forward too.

Suddenly, as she worried about this, a strange thing happened to Kate. It was as though a physical weight around her neck, like the Ancient Mariner’s dead albatross, was cut away and fell into darkness. It
was
her turn to embrace a new life. It wouldn’t always be easy, she was ready for that, but she was equally certain that all sorts of good things lay before her.

‘Ooh, look, here’s the receipt,’ exclaimed Joyce. ‘It was in the bag with the jacket all the time. I’ll go for the navy one this time, don’t you think? Much smarter for Hazel’s seventieth.’

Twenty minutes later, Dan rang. Kate couldn’t keep the joy out of her ‘hello’.

‘Are you very busy this morning?’ Dan asked, and Kate’s newfound joy deflated slightly. He sounded so odd.

‘Nothing that can’t be put off. Why?’

‘I’m just on my way home from Halesworth. Can I pick you up in a few minutes? I want to talk to you about something.’

‘Well, OK.’ Then, after a moment. ‘Is everything all right?’

‘Yes, everything’s fine. I’ll see you in five. Oh, something important. Can you bring your locket with you? And the diaries.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’

Kate hurried upstairs, dragged a brush through her hair, fastened the locket over her turtleneck sweater and picked up the packet of exercise books. Mystery or not, she was seeing Dan and she was content.

‘Goodbye,’ she shouted to Joyce, who asked, ‘Shall I see you at the dress rehearsal?’ because they were on nativity costume duty after school.

‘Yes, unless I’m back before,’ she called out, as she put on her coat, then she closed the door firmly on Bobby’s accusing face, and hurried down to the main road. Dan’s van drew up straight-away and she climbed in.

‘Hello,’ she said, busying herself with the seatbelt so she didn’t have to decide whether to kiss him or not. ‘Where are we going then? Your place?’

‘No.’ Then, after a moment. ‘You haven’t met my dad, have you?’

His dad? Kate shook her head. ‘We’re going to see him? He’s in Wenhaston, isn’t he?’

‘Just outside the village, yes.’

‘Oh.’ Dan fell silent and inscrutable, so she sat back and let him drive.

The man who opened the door of the modern bungalow to Dan and Kate was instantly recognizable as Dan’s father. Like his son, he was tall and rangy, though slightly stooped. His cropped curls were iron grey, but the startling blue eyes and sudden warm smile were Dan to a T. Patrick Peace was a partner in a small plumbing business, Dan had once told Kate. He was practically retired now but filled a few hours a week dealing with the company paperwork. His wife, Sally, was a secretary at Halesworth Town Council.

Mr Peace gestured Kate through to the living room. As she handed him her coat, his eye fell on the locket around her neck and his eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing. She followed Dan’s invitation and sat down on the sofa while Patrick Peace made them coffee. Dan disappeared into the kitchen and she heard their voices, then footsteps going upstairs.

There was a row of photographs on the brick mantelpiece over the gas-effect fire. They were mostly of children and teenagers who had to be Sally’s but she smiled at a picture of a slighter, younger Dan proudly staggering under the weight of a huge fish. She looked for a picture of Dan’s mother but, perhaps in respect to the second wife, there was none.

Just then Patrick appeared with a tray of coffee mugs and Dan came in on his heels carrying a battered shoebox, which he placed on the coffee table. Patrick sat stirring sugar into his coffee and cleared his throat.

Kate waited for somebody to say something. Finally, Dan and his father both spoke at once. Dan motioned for his father to continue.

‘Dan’s very interested in your locket, Kate,’ Patrick said, harumphing. ‘Would you let me take a look?’

‘Of course,’ Kate said, puzzled, and passed the pendant to him. As Dan had done the other night, he turned it over in his hands, stroking the image gently with his thumbs and squinting at the faded photograph. Then he nodded, reached for the shoebox, opened it and drew out what Kate first of all thought was a fifty-pence piece.

She watched, amazed, as Patrick fitted the coin to the back of the locket and, with a tiny pair of pliers that Dan handed him, fiddled with the hinge.

Then he looked up and flashed her a smile before passing the locket back. She sat staring at it, amazed. The locket was complete. She slid her thumbnail into the catch and opened it. There, facing the picture of Agnes, was a yellowed portrait of a good-looking young man with sleek dark hair. For the first time she gazed on the face of Harry Foster. Joy and astonishment shot through her. She looked from Dan to his father, to see their smiles meeting her own.

‘Where did you get this?’ she whispered in wonderment.

‘I keep this shoebox in the loft,’ said Patrick. ‘It has a few things Joanna left – Dan’s mother, you know.’

Dan’s mother? Kate’s mind was working overtime, but she couldn’t yet make it compute any answers.

Dan sat listening as his father went on. ‘Dan’s told you, has he? Jo died – when he was ten. Twenty-five years ago now. She was only thirty-two. The cancer had spread right the way inside her.’ Kate could see the pain in the man’s eyes, even thinking of it now.

‘Joanna’s own mother died young, too, of the same disease. Before I met Jo.’ He rummaged in the box for a moment then drew out two photographs and passed them to Kate. One was of a tall, quiet-looking girl with fair hair, just approaching womanhood. She was standing in a garden against the wall of a cottage. The second showed the girl again, at seven or eight with a boy of about four and a woman holding a baby. They were on a beach and there were other children playing in the background. ‘Her name was Esther. Esther Howells, before her marriage, I remember Joanna said. There are still Howells round this way.’