Echoes of the Dance (29 page)

Kate placed the teddy on the bed and stared about the room, remembering her son's face as she'd seen it yesterday when he and Gemma had fetched the twins. There was a severity about Guy, an almost puritanical streak that made him judgemental, and it had been much in evidence this last weekend. When these characteristics were roused his face became expressionless and he withdrew behind a barrier of austerity: it was almost impossible to approach him except on the most formal of levels, difficult to joke or draw him out of it, and it became necessary to rely on his own sense of fairness and the depth of his affection for the person concerned to restore him.

So far Gemma had been able to hold the balance between her light-hearted friendliness and his severity, and the children had done much to soften him, but now something was clearly amiss. Kate guessed that Gemma had intended their weekend together on Guy's boat to be a time of reconciliation after some kind of falling-out – probably Guy had taken exception to a particular display of Gemma's flirtatiousness – but it was evident that this hadn't been achieved. When they'd arrived to fetch the twins Guy was withdrawn and Gemma was nervous: her voice was too high, her laugh too shrill in her attempt to keep the atmosphere jolly, but luckily the twins had been too tired to notice much.

Kate had noticed. One look at Guy's face had transported her back into her own young days when she'd feared to see such an expression on Mark's face and would have gone to almost any lengths to prevent such a mood, which could shatter family peace and destroy a happy atmosphere in moments. Guy had suffered too much from his father's cruel tongue and slighting ways not to have made a very real attempt to control any signs of these traits in his own character, and he loved his family very much, yet she'd experienced that tiny clutch of fear as she'd watched his sealed, unresponsive face.

Now she wondered: Am I afraid of my son?

The answer was probably: Yes. Once, she might have attempted a gentle – a very gentle – teasing approach which, in the past, had drawn a reluctant dawning of humour from him and a faintly apologetic recognition of the chilling effect of his behaviour. Now, she was unwilling to interfere between him and his wife, yet she felt guilty and unhappy that Gemma should be suffering as once she had suffered. Watching them together in the past she'd been relieved to see that they seemed to understand each other: that Guy worked hard to be more broad-minded, less judgemental, and that Gemma's warmth and her fun-loving nature was given stability and a deeper quality by the very nature of his steadiness. They loved each other, and the twins had enriched and expanded that love.

So what had happened that might put it all at risk? Kate had no doubt that Guy and Gemma had had many ups and downs in their ten years of marriage but this was the first time that she'd felt seriously uneasy about them. She was still in the playroom when Gemma arrived and she hastened down the stairs to meet her.

‘I was thinking while I was driving across the moor,' said Gemma, following Kate into the kitchen. ‘I was thinking that it was odd, you being my mother-in-law when I've known you all my life.'

‘True,' agreed Kate, filling the kettle and wondering where this line of thought was leading. ‘It's unusual. Of course, you've known Guy all your life too.'

Gemma huddled beside the Rayburn as if she were cold; the sleeves of her pink cotton cardigan hung down over her hands and she folded her arms tightly about herself. Her natural poise had deserted her and she looked frightened. Kate began to make the tea, alert to Gemma's every movement and expression, but without any outward sign of anxiety.

‘I think that's why I believed you'd manage him,' continued Kate. ‘Because you'd known him for so long, I mean. He's not an easy person.'

Gemma began to laugh; it was a nervous, edgy sound.

‘Thanks,' she said. ‘For trying to make it easy, I mean. The trouble is, it's not Guy. Well, it is, of course, but I mean it's not his fault. It's my fault.' She went to sit down at the table, her head resting in her hands. ‘My past has caught up with me.'

‘That sounds exciting.' Kate put the mugs on the table and sat down opposite. ‘Since you were married at nineteen and, before that, you were training as a Norland Nanny I can't imagine your past is too sordid.'

Gemma wrapped her hands around the hot mug. Her face was pinched and small, her eyes miserable.

‘The really mean thing is that ever since . . . this thing happened, I've been so sensible. It nearly caught me out, you see, and for the first time I realized exactly how much I had to lose. It frightened me and I kind of grew up and stopped playing around.'

Kate watched her. ‘So what
did
happen? What is this thing that's come back to haunt you?'

‘While I was playing around I made an enemy. The worst kind because up until then Marianne was a good friend right back to schooldays.' Gemma fiddled with her cuff, biting her lip vexatiously, and presently she looked at Kate. ‘This is awful for both of us, isn't it? But that's what I meant when I said it was odd, knowing you all my life . . .'

‘And Cass is away,' said Kate, puzzled but trying to help her. ‘Just when you need her.'

‘Oh, no.' Gemma sat up straight, shaking her head. ‘You don't understand. Ma wouldn't be much use at the moment. It's because you're Guy's mum that I need you to help me. To tell me how I can reach him and how to handle him. In most cases the last thing you'd do is tell your mother-in-law that you've been unfaithful to her son, isn't it?' She made an uneasy, mirthless sound in an attempt to cover the shocked silence and her anxiety. ‘Are you very angry?'

Kate
was
angry: she felt all the hurt and betrayal on Guy's behalf and she longed, just for a second or two, to give Gemma a sound smack. Staring at her across the table it seemed as if time spiralled backwards to just such another crisis and she saw Cass's face, wearing that same guilty, wheedling expression, and heard her voice saying, ‘That was a close one. No. No bullet this time but no more Russian roulette . . .' and the moment passed.

‘No,' she said rather reluctantly. ‘No, not angry. I suppose I'm not terribly surprised either,' she added – and wondered if this might sound offensive.

‘Like mother like daughter?' suggested Gemma lightly, and smiled at Kate's reaction. ‘Don't worry. Ma hinted once that she'd played the field a bit and warned me against it. I didn't want to know. Well, you don't, do you? It's a bit embarrassing when your parents start telling you how it was for them when they were young, but I guessed that she was trying to give me a hint. I only wish I'd taken it.' She drank some tea, choosing her words carefully. ‘The thing is that I had a fling with Marianne's boyfriend, Simon, when Guy and I were on holiday on Exmoor a few years ago. It wasn't just a flirtation but the whole thing, and I was stupidly careless. I was terrified. That's when I knew that I must grow up and that I couldn't bear to lose Guy. Nothing happened and I thought I'd got away with it, though I heard that Marianne was furious. She must have let Simon off the hook because they managed to patch things up eventually and even got married. Then last week it all blew up again.'

‘Do you mean you're seeing him again?'

Kate had to make a very real effort to keep any hint of accusation out of her voice but Gemma shook her head, frowning, as if irritated that Kate was missing the point.

‘No, of course not. At least, not in that way. I was shopping in Totnes and I went into Effings and there he was, having coffee. I hadn't seen him in all these years, honestly, but it seemed churlish not to have some coffee with him.'

‘So? You had coffee . . . ?'

‘Yes.' Gemma took a very deep breath. ‘And while we were sitting there another mutual friend just happened to come in for some cheese or whatever and she obviously got the wrong end of the stick. The ironic thing is that this time there was simply nothing in it. Nothing.'

Kate stared at her, all her own wrath fading as she saw the misery on Gemma's face.

‘And this mutual friend told Marianne?'

Gemma nodded. ‘And then she simply wouldn't believe Simon when he told her the truth. She accused him of deceiving her all these years, then she threw him out, and then she wrote to Guy.'

‘Oh my God!'

‘Yes. That just about sums it up.'

‘Did you tell him about what happened on Exmoor?'

‘Yes, I did. I felt that he must hear the absolute truth and he believes me when I say that it finished then, I know he does, but he can't forgive me even though it was all that time ago. He can't forgive me and he says that he can't trust me any more.' Her chin shook and tears filled her eyes. ‘He looks so . . . so
disgusted
by me.'

‘Oh, poor Gemma.' Kate was full of horror. ‘Yes. Yes, he would.'

‘I don't know what to do, you see. I thought you might be able to help me. I'm really sorry, Kate. You can't be all that thrilled, after all, but I simply don't know what else to do. He can be so . . . upright.'

‘You mean he can be a self-righteous prig. What was he doing when you were with Simon?'

‘He was off sailing with a man who lived just up the coast. Guy had sold him the boat and he'd offered to take Guy out. Not that I minded. I admit that I wish he wasn't away quite so much, delivering boats, but I'm used to it now.'

‘But should you have to be used to it? Guy's always had a need for solitude, ever since he was a small boy, but when he got married he should have been prepared to forego some of his freedom. After all, he's known you all your life; he knows you are a friendly, outgoing girl . . .'

Kate paused, marshalling her thoughts; Gemma raised her eyebrows and the glimmer of a smile touched her lips.

‘Are you suggesting that I tell Guy that this is his fault?'

‘No. No, not exactly. What I'm suggesting is that Guy should take some share of the responsibility here.'

‘You must be joking! And how do I manage that?'

‘I think he has to see that you both have needs and that it's time they were catered for more equally. Hang on, I know that sounds a difficult concept to present to him but I'm trying to work it out. I'm not talking about threats: “If you keep going away so much I shall find my own fun.” Rather, I'm thinking of a way to appeal to his sense of fair play. I know that Guy often feels a bit guilty about his trips away but it doesn't stop him making them, does it? He doesn't wonder whether you might be lonely or bored. He could quite easily stay in the office and take on someone else to do the delivery part of the work. He's done extraordinarily well with his business; surely he could afford to sit back now and spend some time with you and the twins? I think he needs to see that his own behaviour will have influenced yours and it's time to make a change.'

‘And how do we tell him this? Given that he's hardly speaking to me and spending most of his time on his boat?'

‘How have you been behaving?'

‘Cringingly. Begging for forgiveness. Apologizing and abasing myself.'

‘Well, that must stop. You've behaved badly; you've admitted it and you've tried to make up for it since. It's a shock, of course it is, but he can't just think about himself. He must put it behind him, though it might be tricky explaining that to him.'

‘Just a tad,' agreed Gemma feelingly.

‘It's always difficult,' Kate continued thoughtfully, ‘climbing off your high horse. So undignified and terribly easy to fall flat on your face. Best to let him do it on his own. Stop explaining and apologizing and let him make the next move.'

‘How ruthless you are,' said Gemma admiringly. ‘Is that how you managed Guy's father?'

‘Oh, no.' Kate, who had been concentrating, intent, slumped in her chair. She looked sad. ‘I didn't manage him at all well. I have no right at all to advise you what to do, Gemma. I never confronted Mark, I was too afraid of him, but with hindsight we might have done better together if I had.'

There was a short silence.

‘The trouble with the strong silent type is that they can seem such a challenge.' Gemma shrugged ruefully. ‘So exciting and mysterious, like a locked door. We want to know what's behind it. Is that how you saw Mark?'

‘Probably. It seems so long ago and he was all so much a part of the naval scene: the Summer Ball at Dartmouth, the Royal Marine Band playing on the quarterdeck and the pretty dresses and the glamorous uniforms. He was like someone on a film set: tall, dark, good-looking, with that strong silent approach and an upright sense of duty and honour. I was overwhelmed by love and high ideals, excited at being allowed a part in it all. It was like being presented with a big, beautiful box except, when the ribbons were undone and the paper torn off, I found that there was nothing inside. It was empty.'

After a moment, Gemma leaned forward and touched Kate's hand. ‘It hasn't been like that for me. There's plenty in
my
box, I promise you.'

Kate began to chuckle. ‘Oh, darling, I'm so relieved to hear you say that. And, since we're talking genetics, I have to say that I can't help being glad that you are very like your mother after all. Especially as you seem to have more sense than she had at your age. One thing has puzzled me, though. I know that Guy's little cottage in the courtyard was perfect when you were first married and while the twins were small but I've often wondered why you haven't moved into something a bit bigger with a garden. I can't imagine it's a financial decision.'