At Home With The Templetons (32 page)

We are all fine, I’m glad to say. Audrey continues to make wonderful progress. Her therapist (a very nice young man from New Zealand) coaxed her into a new form of treatment based on dramatic and artistic crafts such as puppetry, pottery
etc.
As I’m sure you can understand, we were concerned and sceptical at first, in light of the fact it was her unfortunate experience with stage fright that triggered her speech problems. However, it has had a very positive impact. She’s like a different young woman, not only talking easily outside the home now, but eager to head out and about with him every weekend. Gracie is convinced there’s more than therapy going on between them, but she always did have a romantic heart.

I’m sure you feel we are just sounding like broken records by this time, but yes, I assure you that from my point of view at least, the plan still IS to come back one day, to get Templeton Hall up and running again, even to prove something to myself. I can’t speak for Henry. I don’t want to and I wouldn’t dare and he has obviously moved on with his interests in any case (a combined vintage car and limousine-hire business in San Francisco is his latest venture, if you can believe it) but I am determined to see the Hall’s beauty open to the general public again one day. I know the mind plays tricks and memories can seem rose-coloured but our time there does seem bathed in a warm glow to me sometimes. Then again, that could be because the sky is grey outside, the neighbours behind us have been doing renovations for the past four months and all we hear are the squeals of drills and circular saws and it feels like years since I felt a warm breeze on my face rather than biting icy wind.

Enough of my complaining! Congratulations again, Nina, to Tom and to you. We feel as proud as if we had coached him ourselves.

Love, Eleanor

To: Nina

From: Eleanor Templeton Date: June 2001

Dear Nina,

We have a card and a present on the way to Tom for his birthday but Gracie is worried they’ll arrive late - could you please pass on this email to Tom so he definitely gets something from us all on the day!

All good wishes to you both, Eleanor

Happy 20th birthday Tom from all the Templetons!

Henry, Eleanor, Charlotte, Audrey, Gracie, Spencer and Hope XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

May 2001

Dear Nina,

I’ve written to Tom already (he and I have also decided to ignore modern technology - real letters are so much better than emails) but I just wanted to tell you as well that it’s brilliant news he’s definitely coming to London as part of his big trip. It will be fantastic to see him. We’ve moved house (again) since he stayed with us last. That one turned out to be too big and this one is possibly too small, but it’s close to a great park so if he needs to go jogging or anything else to keep fit, then it will be handy. We all wish you were coming too - though you wouldn’t have to do all the backpacking through Asia first, of course.

Mum told me she’s told you the incredible news about Audrey announcing her engagement to her therapist - Charlotte has had plenty to say about it, as I’m sure you can imagine. Audrey is so happy now though, talking normally again, and he seems very nice. I really like his New Zealand accent too (though not as much as I like your Australian accent, of course). Audrey’s second piece of bombshell news was that she and Greg are moving to Manchester. He’s apparently been headhunted by a clinic there. Audrey is quite funny now. After not talking for so long she now talks non-stop, mostly about Greg and how wonderful he is …

I’m sorry this is briefer than usual. I have three essays to finish before Monday. And I thought the life of a university student was supposed to be all sleeping-in and doing nothing??

I hope all is well with you and that you are just as busy. I feel like we haven’t been writing to each other as much as usual - that’s my own guilt there, I’m sure. I promise I’ll write much more as soon as I get all my studies out of the way.

Lots of love, Gracie xxxx

June 2001

Dear Nina

Please excuse this brief postcard but I just had to give you the latest in the Audrey & Greg Romance Saga - they’ve eloped! Well, to be precise, they secretly got married in a registry office in Manchester. Audrey said neither she nor Greg wanted the fuss of a wedding, and she especially didn’t want the tension of Mum and Dad under the same roof. Charlotte thinks Audrey just did it to try and seem all bohemian and interesting. I’m staying neutral!

Love for now, and don’t worry, we’re all counting down the days until Tom arrives in London. I hope all is well there. Please do write when you get a chance. I feel like I haven’t heard from you in ages. Gracie xx

To: Nina

From: Eleanor Templeton Date: August 2001

Dear Nina

The quickest of entails to let you know that Tom rang last night to say he’s arriving in London on Wednesday. I’m unfortunately away at a work conference that day, but Gracie’s now on holiday from university and will meet him at Paddington station. He’ll be in touch with you himself soon, I’m sure, but in the meantime, we’ll take the very best care of him.

Love from us all, Eleanor

London, August 2001

Gracie knew as soon as she saw Tom step out of the train carriage at Paddington that this visit would be different. As she stood on the platform in her favourite red coat and green silk scarf, her hair tied back in its usual long plait, she spotted him immediately. Taller than the people around him, his figure lean, his hair a mass of dark curls. He was wearing jeans, a dark reefer jacket, and had a battered rucksack on his back.

He put down the rucksack and they hugged as two old friends meeting but even that moment; that touch, felt different. An electrical charge, that’s how she described it to him later. He’d felt the same thing, he told her.

During his visit two years previously they’d spent their time together sightseeing and teasing, nothing so much as a kiss between them. All the letters they’d sent to each other since had been between two good friends too, nothing more. Yet this time, from the first minute, every cell of her nineteen-year-old self was physically aware of him. They couldn’t seem to stop touching each other, accidentally at first, she reaching for his rucksack at the same time as he did, briefly taking his arm to direct him to the right Tube entrance, before seeing the message that there were delays on the track. It was an unseasonably cold August day. She suggested a hot port while they waited, at the same time he suggested a hot whisky.

In a dark, smoky pub around the corner from the station, they had one of each. She was worried there wouldn’t be anything to talk about, that she should have tried harder to track Spencer down to get him to meet Tom as well. But their sentences tumbled over and into each other’s.

She told him about life at university, how much she’d enjoyed her first year, the joy of studying for study’s sake. About her plans to move into a flat of her own as soon as she could afford it, how she was still babysitting and now waitressing too to try and save as much as possible. He asked about her family, and she talked about her parents’ separation, her mother’s teaching career, her father’s constant travels, Charlotte’s nanny business, Audrey’s marriage to her New Zealand-born therapist, Spencer’s ongoing wild streak and ever-growing bond

with his aunt Hope, who was, yes, still sober and now running her own rehabilitation clinics with Victor, her wealthy, elderly boyfriend.

Tom listened intently, asking questions, laughing at times, shaking his head when she finished, telling her he felt like he’d just watched an omnibus edition of a family soap opera.

‘That’s us in a nutshell,’ Gracie said, laughing too.

In turn, he told her about his eight months at the cricket academy, about the second placement he was due to start after his holiday. He talked about Nina’s new life as a teacher. He spoke about his travels through Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, Vietnam; the scenery he’d seen, the life of a solo backpacker, apologising several times, mid-story. ‘I haven’t been talking to many people lately, sorry, Gracie.’

‘No, please, go on.’

Two hours into their reunion, they stopped talking and there was a moment when all they seemed to do was smile at each other.

‘You look great, Gracie,’ he said. ‘London suits you.’

‘You look beautiful yourself.’ She meant it, even as she laughed and said he was beautiful in a manly way, of course. He looked so strong and handsome and fit, she thought, like some one in an adventure story. She almost told him as much, before searching for more normal conversation. ‘In years to come you won’t be able to sit here undisturbed, will you?’ she said. ‘Cricket fans will be mobbing you.’

He shook his head and smiled that shy smile she’d already committed to memory. ‘You’re confusing cricketers with pop stars. See that man over there?’ She turned and looked at an old man in the corner he’d indicated. ‘He might have been the greatest bowler in English history, for all we know, but people don’t remember faces. Not when we’re all dressed in white and look the same.’

‘They’ll remember you,’ she said loyally. ‘Especially after you’ve bowled out the entire English team in every Ashes series.’ ‘I need to make the team first,’ he said. ‘Minor detail.’

‘You will, Tom. I know it.’

She took him back to her mother’s house after a third drink. There was no sign of Eleanor, just the note she’d left on the table that morning welcoming Tom, saying to make himself at home, that she’d be back from her conference as soon as she could. There was no message from Spencer. Gracie apologised on his behalf. ‘I think he might be away with Hope again. She travels a lot and Spencer seems to go with her as her bag-carrier or PA or something. We’re not too sure what exactly.’

Tom smiled. ‘Don’t worry. It’ll be great to see him whenever he turns up.’

Was Tom getting tired of her company already? ‘I can try a few different numbers for him, if you like? He might be back or he might be staying with other friends of his. He moves around a fair bit.’

‘Can we go and have something to eat first? You and me? We’ve hardly caught up yet.’

The attraction between them intensified during dinner. He seemed to find every excuse to touch her, as she found to touch him. They ordered a bottle of wine, pasta, dessert, the conversation flowing easily, laughing together, swapping tales. Coming out of the restaurant, it was the most natural thing in the world to hold hands as they dodged the traffic, ran from a sudden rain shower, to keep holding hands even when they didn’t need to, until they got home again.

Eleanor still wasn’t back. There was a message on the answering machine. The conference had run late, she was staying with one of her colleagues, she’d see them tomorrow instead. They had the house to themselves.

They decided to pretend it wasn’t summer and light the fire in the living room. He helped her bring in wood from the small garden shed, set the fire, choose music. There was more talking, more laughing. Gracie offered another glass of wine and was embarrassed to discover there was none in the house.

‘I’ll go and get some. There’s an off-licence just down the road,’ she said.

‘I’ll come with you. It’s getting dark out there.’

‘I’ll be fine on my own, I promise.’ She needed to slow this down, catch her breath, even for a few minutes. ‘Would you like to take a shower while I’m gone?’ ‘Is that a not-very-subtle hint?’

Another smile. ‘You don’t need one, no, but would you like one?’

‘I’d love one, actually. You’re sure you’ll be okay on your own?’

‘I’m sure,’ she said, about to jokingly ask if he was sure he’d be okay in the shower on his own. Fighting a sudden blush, she showed him where the towels were, told him to help himself to Spencer’s shampoo, now even more physically aware of him than before.

Outside, the cool night air helped calm her down. She walked to the off-licence, chose a bottle of very good wine and then sat down on the graffitied bench down the road to do some thinking.

What was going on? Was she imagining this? Or was there definitely something happening between the two of them?

She tried to look at it rationally. It was Tom. Tom, Nina’s son. Tom from the farmhouse. Tom who played cricket. Tom who had visited two years earlier, without anything like this happening between them. Tom who she’d known since she was eleven years old. Tom, who she’d had - yes, who she’d had a small, secret crush on since she was eleven.

But she was nineteen years old now. He was nearly twenty-one And yes, something had changed. All she wanted to do now was kiss him. She wanted to do more than kiss him.

She’d never felt like this before, so intensely physically aware of someone, so attracted. More than attracted. It felt like some kind of magnetic pull, almost out of her control. It had never felt like this with Owen, the closest she’d had to a boyfriend before. He’d been another volunteer at the old folks’ home, a nice, friendly Scottish boy her age. They’d gone to the cinema several times, eaten pizza and watched DVDs at home

together, had a day trip to Brighton. They’d kissed and done a little more than kissing, but Gracie hadn’t wanted to go any further. Barely a month into their dating, she’d realised they’d run out of things to say to each other. She’d put off breaking up with him, not wanting to hurt his feelings, and then felt only relief when he broke up with her first.

But everything that had been missing when she was with Owen - real attraction, curiosity, constant conversation, physical longing, yes, longing - was all she was feeling with Tom. She’d felt it from their first minutes together that afternoon.

She stood up abruptly. She’d been gone long enough already. Perhaps she was imagining this. Perhaps she was a little bit drunk. Perhaps it was just that it was Tom, Tom Donovan, who she’d known for so long. He was just an old family friend come to stay. She was confusing familiarity with something else. That was it.