A Hidden Life (15 page)

‘What was her name?'

‘I don't know. She was too young to be named, I think. She died in the prison camp.'

‘How horrible. Was it horrible in the camp?'

‘Oh, yes. No food. Terrible heat, and if you didn't do what you were told at once, you got punished.'

‘What sort of punishments?'

‘We were made to stand in the sun.'

That didn't sound too bad to Matt, but it must have been very hot, he supposed. Like being in the field at cricket, when it was sunny. Father went on, ‘We weren't allowed to move.'

‘What happened if you did move?'

‘We got – well, never mind. It didn't happen often, I'm glad to say.'

What would it be like to be in a place like that? He felt sick thinking about it. But Father hadn't seemed upset. He seemed quite normal, so he must have got over it.

Something occurred to Matt. Other boys he knew had aunts and uncles and cousins as well as brothers and sisters, but he had practically no relations. It wasn't fair. He said, ‘Didn't you have any aunts and uncles or anything?'

‘Not that I knew of. Everything got, well, complicated after the war. My real mother died, you know, and Grandmother Rosemary adopted me. She thought it best for us to make a fresh start when we came to England. I'm sure she was right. I didn't know anything about my mother's relations. She was born in France …'

‘Really?' Matt thought about this for a moment. That made him a quarter French. Was he pleased about this? He didn't know, but he could mention it at school tomorrow and see how his friends reacted to the news. ‘Can you speak French, then?'

‘Not really. And only the French I learned at school. My father was English, so that was what we spoke when I was a little boy. I've never – well, I've never felt in the least French, to tell you the truth.'

Constance had come out then, and called them both in to tea. Father had stood up and taken her by the hand. Perhaps – this thought was a new one and had never occurred to Matt before – perhaps he loved her passionately. You'd never have been able to tell. His father was the most buttoned-up person he'd ever known. Maybe
Constance, like Ellie, to whom she'd been completely devoted, was extraordinary in bed and his father was entranced by her. It seemed very unlikely but you never knew.

Phyl came back carrying a tray which she put down on the small table that stood under the window. She handed him a mug and picked up her own.

‘I'll regret this in the morning,' she said. ‘It's after two. Bags under my eyes. And you've got to go to work. Can you lie in a bit? They'll be okay without you for a bit, won't they?'

‘Yes, it's not a problem – but Phyl, tell me honestly. D'you really think it's a good idea, this looking after Poppy? I know it's only been a week, but …'

‘We've been through this, Matt. I'm not going to discuss it in the middle of the night, so don't think I am. I'm exhausted.'

‘My point exactly.' Matt tried another tack. ‘And what about
us
, Phyl? Wouldn't you like more freedom? More time together, just the two of us?'

She was looking at him strangely. ‘We do have time together. All the time, when you're not at work.'

‘I didn't mean that … I meant … well, tonight, for example, I felt like making love to you.' That wasn't exactly true, but he was making a point.

Phyl smiled. ‘That's good to know. We can make love whenever you fancy, you know that … only not now, because I'm finished, wiped out. Really.' She stood up and went to hug Matt, putting an arm around his shoulders and kissing the top of his head.

‘That's what I've just been arguing. You've been tired this past week. Think about it, Phyl. We're not as young as we used to be. Let's ring Lou and tell her it's too much.'

‘I can't. I promised her some time … a week isn't time. Let's wait a little while, okay?'

He wasn't going to persuade her tonight. He said, ‘Right. I'll leave it for now. Let's go to sleep or we'll be half dead tomorrow.'

‘This is nice.' Nessa tried not to sound grudging. She'd been invited to have lunch in Justin's new flat in Brighton. He'd moved in here
just before Constance's death. Would he move out soon and into Milthorpe House? It was one of the things she wanted to find out.

‘You're the first person to see it. Haven't asked any of the others yet.'

‘That figures.' It would be months before Matt and Phyl would be asked round and as for Lou … well, she was up in London, wasn't she? In spite of Justin's remarks about filling Milthorpe House with a wife and children, Nessa didn't think that was terribly likely, or not in the very near future. Her dear brother gave a whole new dimension to the term ‘commitment phobic'. All through their teenage years the house had been overrun with girls longing to attract his attention, and some of them did briefly, but no one lasted long and that pattern had continued without much change or interruption as far as she could see. There was a time when she thought Justin might be gay, but he wasn't. That wasn't, of course, to say he hadn't slept with men – she couldn't imagine him turning down a sexual treat, whatever the gender, but then, as she told herself, I'm only his sister, so what do I know? He'd never confided in her and she gleaned what information she had from the odd hint here and there. In any case, he certainly wasn't about to get married and start producing kids.

Nessa looked at the parquet floor, which was like a slab of shiny toffee, catching the light which poured in through the floor-to-ceiling window. There were two enormous, shaggy white rugs carefully positioned near the white sofa and a hideous but eye-catching painting took up most of one wall. It resembled a blow-up of the reds page from a Dulux colour chart, arranged in fuzzy stripes – Rothko Lite. Justin had obviously been watching homemaking programmes on TV. His flat was ridiculously clean and up-to-the-minute. It lacked soul, but then so did Justin, so no shock there. She wondered how he'd managed to afford such a place and said, ‘Your bank manager must be very obliging. How did you manage to sweet-talk him into a mortgage? This place must have cost a bob or two.'

‘He's putty in my hands,' said Justin.

‘Not literally, I hope.'

‘No,' said Justin, smiling, ‘though that probably wouldn't be out of the question, if I fancied it. Which I don't. Still, he's even keener now he's aware of my good fortune. Can't do enough for me. It's
amazing how kind everyone becomes the minute they suss that you've got serious money.'

‘Mmm,' said Nessa and went on, ‘I reckon this place could do with some flowers. Shall I email you my catalogue?'

‘No offence, Ness, but fresh flowers I think, don't you?'

‘Surely you don't expect me to say yes, do you? Put myself out of business. No, I think you're my ideal customer. You want low-maintenance beauty, don't you?' The phrase struck her as rather good and she made a mental note to ask Mickey what she thought of it. Maybe they might incorporate it in one of their ads.

‘Put like that – oh, well, if you like. It'd do no harm to send it, I suppose. Fancy a coffee or a drink, or shall we eat?'

‘Eat, if you don't mind. I have to pick Tamsin up today.'

‘Follow me, then.'

They went into the kitchen, and Justin produced some M&S tarts from the oven. Gruyère and onion, with some salad in a very pretty green glass bowl and ice-cold mineral water. Very nice too. M&S food was one of the things to which Nessa was unreservedly devoted. She'd already admired the entirely silver and white kitchen. How easy it was to keep a place tidy with no kids! No Sugar Puffs or Mr Men yoghurts and no Omega-3-enriched bread in the bread-bin. Not that the pared-down, surgically gleaming space-age stuff was to her taste, even without childish things in it. And in any case, she thought, it's worth having a cluttered kitchen if Tamsin was the reason for it. Still, it had come as a surprise to her when she realized, seeing Mickey's kitchen in the cottage, that that was where she felt comfortable and relaxed: in a room with a dresser hung with beautiful china, an oak table, rag rugs on the slate floor and a new Aga against one wall. And, of course (Justin was quite right about this!), fresh flowers in the jug on the window sill, changing with the seasons.

‘Have you thought any more about Milthorpe House?' she asked, taking a sip of the water. Nice heavy glasses, too, she noted.

‘Mmm,' Justin answered, chewing rather longer than was necessary so as not to have to answer in any detail. Nessa was used to her brother. She waited till he'd finished and prompted him at once. ‘Tell me. You can't avoid it, you know. I'll keep nagging.'

‘Know you will …' He loaded another forkful and conveyed it to
his mouth. He smiled at her when he'd finished, and Nessa sighed. Having Justin smile at you was like being blinded by too many flashbulbs. She found herself, against her will, dazzled by his beauty.

‘I have been having some thoughts, as it happens,' he said. ‘Don't know if I want anyone to know anything about them yet, though. Early days, you know.'

Two could play the charm game. Nessa smiled a pretty smile of her own and leaned forward to touch Justin on the wrist. ‘It's me, Justin,' she said. ‘Big sister, remember? Do you remember? We were quite close when we were kids, weren't we? I can't imagine why we're not any longer but I think we ought to – well – don't start being all grown-up and distant on me now, please.'

‘I'm not. Not at all. Of course, you'll be the first person – probably the only person – I'll tell.'

‘You've got something up your sleeve, though, haven't you? No point denying it. I can always tell when you're fibbing.'

‘I might have. I don't want to tell you now, though. It really is too early to announce anything. Besides, it contradicts what I told Matt and Phyl. I don't want them to know at this stage. Or Lou either come to that. Matt'd try and stop me somehow. Not that he can. God, I'm grateful to Constance for making sure no one can pick holes in her will! But I'd rather present everyone with a
fait accompli.'

‘Oh, go on, Justin! Please?' She found her voice acquiring a sugar coating, the kind she used to use to get Gareth's attention in the days when she'd still fancied him. ‘I won't tell a soul,' she added, knowing that was a lie. She would most probably share the details of this lunch with Mickey.

‘I've been in discussions with Eremount.'

‘Who's Eremount?'

‘Property developers. You must have seen their hoardings. All over the south coast, those purple and green ones.'

‘Oh, them. Hideous colours. Yes, I know who you mean.' Nessa felt a little uncomfortable. What was he about to tell her?

‘They're interested, that's all. Nothing's firmed up yet.'

‘Interested?'

‘Yup. In Milthorpe House.' Justin went to a white cupboard and took out some water biscuits. The cheeses were already on a marble
cheeseboard on the work surface and he brought this to the table too and set it in front of Nessa. ‘They're dead keen, actually.'

She gazed at the cheeses and every trace of appetite left her. What was he saying? She took a deep breath. ‘Let me get this right. You're thinking of selling Milthorpe House?'

‘That's right. For a ton of money – and not only that, I'd have some shares in it.'

‘In what?'

‘Didn't I say?'

‘No, Justin, you did not. You've got to tell me the whole thing now. It's not fair to let me know some of it and not the rest. Go on, cough it up.'

‘God, what an elegant turn of phrase. Okay. Eremount want to buy it and turn it into a health club and spa.'

Nessa felt as though a rug had been pulled from beneath her and it was all she could do to stop herself from gasping in astonishment, but she didn't want Justin to think he'd taken her so completely unawares. She raised an eyebrow – that amount of surprise was okay – and kept her voice level when she answered.

‘Well, that'll please some people. But a spa?'

‘Why not? Spas are where it's at.'

Nessa positioned a square of Brie on a cream cracker and bit into it. She thought about what Justin had just told her. Careful, she told herself. Don't get his back up.

‘Tell me more.' She let him witter on while she thought. She liked the idea. She could just imagine what Milthorpe House would be like, turned into a spa. It would be fantastic – a real money-spinner, she was sure of it. Suddenly, any thoughts she may have had about keeping the house in the family seemed unimportant. Justin was droning on about turnover … returns for investments … jewel of the area … fashionable … nothing but the best … etc. etc. He fell silent eventually and when she said nothing, he added, ‘What do you think?'

‘Well,' Nessa said, helping herself from the cafetiére Justin had brought to the table. ‘I'd have to see more, of course, more detailed plans, and so forth, but it seems quite a good idea. A lot more realistic than you swanning about up there all on your own.'

‘Thank God!' He looked relieved. ‘So you won't say anything to anyone, will you? Promise? I don't need the grief from Matt.'

‘Well, I will keep quiet. But it'll cost you.'

‘Cost me? What do you mean?'

‘I want shares in the spa, too. I want you to cut me in. Thirty-five per cent, say?'

‘You're mad! Totally bonkers. Why would I do that? Milthorpe's mine now and so are the profits from it. You can't stop me.'

‘Well, I can't, of course, but I could tell Matt and you've just told me you don't want him to know yet. He'll hassle you, you know. He'll go ballistic, actually. I also don't think it's very brotherly of you to want to push me away. We could be partners, Justin. You have to see that Constance's will wasn't fair. Don't you see that?'