Face the Wind and Fly (28 page)

Chapter Twenty-nine

Harry called early. Kate wiped sleep from her eyes and tried to clear her brain.

‘Dad tells me you’re meeting him for lunch.’

‘I am, yes. Why?’

‘I can’t talk now, Kate, I’ve got a meeting but I’ll be through by midday. I’d like to see you before you meet Dad. Can you fit me in?’

Kate was ridiculously pleased to be asked. It was the first time, so far as she could remember, that Harry had ever asked her to meet him. ‘I don’t see why not. Was there something in particular?’

‘It’ll be easier to explain when we meet.’ He named a cafe near the restaurant where she was seeing Andrew. ‘See you then. You will come, won’t you?’

‘Of course I’ll come,’ she answered, surprised.

‘Good. Bye, Kate.’

‘Bye, Harry.’

He cut the call and she stared at the phone, puzzled. It rang again at once. It was Lisa Tranter.

‘I’m in the car park,’ Lisa said in a low, quick voice. ‘I just wanted to say how sorry we all are. You know. About you leaving.’

‘Oh. Right.’ They knew already?

‘No-one wanted you to go, you know.’

Kate wanted to say,
Not even Jack Bailey?
but she held her peace. ‘Thank you for telling me that, Lisa. I appreciate it.’

‘By the way, we just heard – all the readings from the Met mast are great. We’ll certainly be pushing ahead with the full planning application.’

‘When did you hear?’

‘Just this morning. I’m so sorry you won’t be running the project. It was fun working with you.’

‘Thank you, Lisa.’

‘Anyway, I’d better go. Could I buy you a drink sometime? I’d like to.’

‘I’d like that too. What a lovely suggestion.’

So Summerfield would probably happen after all. Kate had always been confident it would. However, it would be Jack who took it forward, not her, and she couldn’t say, hand on heart, that she was sorry about that.

With more time on her hands than she had ever had, it would have been reasonable to assume that she would be better organised than in the days when she’d been out all hours. Oddly, this proved not to be the case – she discovered that she was clean out of coffee. Unable to function without a strong brew of freshly-ground coffee, she put on her coat and set off for the village shop. A hundred yards before she reached it, she came across Frank Griffiths on a small folding stepladder, reaching up a lamppost to cut down one of the many protest placards that had been put up round the village. Georgie was with him.

Kate stopped.

‘Good morning, you two,’ she said brightly. ‘What a lovely day. Was The Herons okay in the storm the other day, Georgie? Did you see the lightning?’

‘Brilliant, wasn’t it? I couldn’t sleep.’

‘It hit our old willow.’

‘Is it all right?’

‘No, sadly, it’s not. A spectacular strike destroyed it completely, there’s nothing left but the stump.’

‘Oh no!’ Georgie seemed upset. ‘But it won’t be Willow Corner any more.’

‘We still have one tree left,’ Kate pointed out, ‘and I’ll probably replant.’ She looked at Georgie. ‘Are you all right, Georgie? Shouldn’t you be in school?’

‘I didn’t feel well this morning. Stomach cramps,’ she looked meaningfully at Kate. ‘Mum said if I felt better later I could go round with Grandpa to collect the posters.’

‘So you do feel a bit better?’ Kate said sympathetically.

‘Much better, thank you. But I’ll probably stay off all day. Mum says I need to get some colour in my cheeks.’

Frank had snipped the plastic clips on the card and he tossed the placard into the sack Georgie was holding. He climbed down from the small steps. ‘Another one done. How many’s that, Georgie?’

‘Twelve. How many are there?’

‘There should be forty, in Forgie and Summerfield.’ He eyed Kate steadily. ‘So. It looks as though the wind farm will go ahead.’

‘What have you heard?’

‘We were notified yesterday that a full planning application is to go in.’

‘Can I ask why the posters are coming down?’

Frank looked embarrassed. ‘Actually, the Community Council has decided to withdraw its protest.’

‘Really? What’s brought that about?’

‘AeGen did a really good job on the Council,’ he said, plainly piqued. ‘First they sent us someone who gave us more detail about the size of the turbines and the sight lines. If we can believe them, we shouldn’t see too much from Forgie once the landscaping is complete.’

As I explained
, Kate thought, amused.

‘And your Community Benefit Manager – Gail? – came and told us we could apply for funding to renovate the village hall.’

‘That’s a great idea.’

Frank tilted his head to one side as if to gauge her reaction, then shook it slowly from side to side. ‘Blood money. That’s what I called it, and that’s what I still believe. But the Community Council voted by a majority to withdraw our opposition, so I’m obliged to accept that.’

Kate felt sorry for him. For all his faults, Frank had fought for what he believed. She tried to soften the defeat. ‘Twelve turbines is quite a small wind farm, Frank. And what you were told about visibility was correct.’

‘Eight.’

‘Sorry?’

He beamed. ‘It looks as though we’ll probably succeed in one thing, at least, we’ve managed to negotiate down from twelve to eight turbines.’

‘Right.’ Kate suppressed a smile. She knew that AeGen had always assumed the proposal would have to be scaled back. ‘Well, there you go. That’s good news. And the village hall does desperately need an upgrade.’

Frank’s attitude changed abruptly. ‘We are where we are. I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘about your situation. You know – work, and—’

He left the sentence unfinished. It was obvious that he didn’t want to discuss her private affairs with Georgie present, but he laid a hand on her arm, the gesture solicitous.

‘Thank you.’ Kate felt herself getting emotional, but choked her feelings back determinedly. She hadn’t entirely given up on Andrew, and the work situation was looking amazingly bright. It was too early, though, to talk about either.

He removed his hand. ‘Come on, Georgie, more placards to take down. Nice to see you, Kate.’

‘And you.’ She meant it. She had not liked the angry Frank. Rage had done him little justice, it had outweighed fondness, and courtesy, and intelligent discussion. All the kindnesses he had shown her over the years had been swamped by pique. She hoped they could learn to manage their differences more moderately. On impulse, she stood on tiptoe and kissed his aged cheek, and was pleased when he looked gratified.

She tucked her arm into Georgie’s and walked a little way down the street with her as Frank strode on ahead. Georgie said in a low voice, ‘Do you know why Mum’s so miserable, Kate?’

Kate glanced at her sharply. ‘What do you mean?’

She glanced anxiously at Frank’s rapidly receding back. ‘I didn’t want to say anything in front of Grandpa, but she’s really snappy, and she never laughs. Frankie says she’s drinking loads, too.’

‘Drinking?’

‘She seems to open a new bottle of wine every evening, and Dad’s not even around at the mo.’ She tucked her long hair behind her ear and looked sideways up at Kate. ‘I don’t mean to be cheeky, but have you fallen out with her? We haven’t seen you in ages.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Will you come and see her? Please?’

Frank stopped at a lamppost and swung round. ‘Here we are, Georgie. Number thirteen?’

‘Yup.’ She looked at Kate and mouthed, ‘Please?’

Kate smiled and gave her a hug. ‘I’ll do what I can,’ she murmured, wondering if she was telling the girl the truth. She wasn’t sulking, it was just that she was still too hurt by Charlotte’s admission to be ready for closeness again.

She met Harry at one of the small Italian coffee shops on George IV Bridge in Edinburgh. Harry was already there when she arrived, sitting on the edge of his chair at a small table in the far corner and nursing a tall latte. He stood up as soon as he saw her. ‘Thanks for coming, Kate, especially at such short notice.’ He bent and kissed her cheek. ‘How are you?’

‘As well as can be expected, considering I’m now unemployed.’ She took off her jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, where it dripped despondently onto the tiled floor. Outside, it was wet and bitterly cold, but the café was almost uncomfortably warm.

‘Unemployed? What happened? Surely the hearing didn’t go against you? They must be mad to let you go—’

‘That’s very sweet of you, Harry, but actually, I resigned.’

Harry blinked at her.

Kate explained the situation. ‘Do you understand how I felt?’ she asked.

‘Absolutely.’ His conviction was heartening. ‘They’re idiots, obviously. You’re so bright and efficient they shouldn’t be risking you going to the opposition.’

‘Thanks. Andrew thinks I’m mad to resign.’

‘Ah. Dad. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Did you order coffee?’

‘I think this is it coming now.’

A young waitress put a foaming cappuccino down in front of her and asked with a marked Italian accent, ‘Is that everything? I can’t tempt you to some torte? Or Pannetone? We’ve baked our own for Christmas.’

Kate shook her head and smiled. ‘I’m having lunch in an hour, though it sounds terribly tempting.’ When the waitress had gone, she said, ‘So you’ve seen your father?’

‘We met for a pint last night.’ He cleared his throat, then stirred his latte. ‘He wants to come back to you. I get the impression things aren’t entirely going well with Sophie. Don’t take him back, Kate.’

‘Don’t—?’

‘He’s an idiot. He’s done this before and if you take him back, I’m sure he’ll only do it again.’

‘He’s done this
before
?’

‘He’s had two or three affairs since you were married.’

Is the wife always the last to know? ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’

‘Would you have believed me?’

Kate stared at Harry, dumbfounded. He was right, of course. If he’d come to her with tales of Andrew’s infidelity, she’d have thought he’d been provoked by resentment or spite.

‘Why do you think it’s taken me so long to get married myself? Because I saw the way Dad behaved and I didn’t want to be like that. It’s just taken me a long time to understand that I’m not programmed like him. When I met Jane, everything changed. I knew that there was no-one else I wanted to spend my life with.’

‘I thought you’d be on his side.’

Harry grimaced. ‘I love Dad, of course I do – but it’s in spite of everything. I hate the way he behaves around women, particularly young women. I despise it.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m going to have to go. Sorry. I just wanted to say, I love the way you fight for things, Kate, but I think if you decide to fight to save this marriage you’d be fighting for the wrong thing. Dad’s not worth it.’

He stood up.

‘Sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, but I couldn’t have rested easy if I hadn’t told you how I felt. I’ll get the coffee.’

Kate stood too, raking a hand through her unfamiliarly long hair. ‘Goodness. Wow.’

Harry smiled. ‘Whatever you decide, can we still be friends? I would hate to lose you just as we’ve begun to talk.’

‘You won’t.’ Harry picked up his coat and briefcase and turned away. She called after him, ‘And thanks for being so honest.’

Outside, frost had been replaced by rain, a biting, wind-driven, bone-chilling kind of wetness. Kate put her head down and marched through it to meet Andrew. In the next hour, she supposed, her future would be decided.

Andrew tried to impress her by taking her to The Tower, high in the Museum of Scotland.

‘Hello, darling.’ He bent to kiss her, but she turned her face away, so that his kiss landed awkwardly near her ear.

‘Hello.’

They sat by a window, in a high eyrie with normally spectacular vistas – but today, Edinburgh was looking gray-cauled and sorry, a charcoal city in a pale mist. It had been raining all morning and now damp droplets slid off dark slates and landed in over-full gutters. Far below them, stone-slabbed pavements gleamed in cold light and pedestrians scuttled hopelessly, heads down, hoods up, wanting only to reach their destinations and better cheer. Trees in a nearby graveyard stood barren and black. It was winter, and dismal.

‘Lovely day.’

He smiled at her irony. ‘Nature’s cycle. Without rain there is no life, after winter comes spring.’

‘You’re very jolly.’

‘Wine?’

‘I think it’s absolutely necessary, don’t you?’

He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and slid them onto his nose. It was an affectingly familiar gesture. The lenses were smeared and dusty and she fought the impulse to take them off him and clean them on a handkerchief.

‘Viognier all right?’

‘Perfect.’

How long had it been since she’d told him to go? Four weeks? Five? Six? She searched his face for change, but saw nothing. A faint strain round the eyes, perhaps, but no more than he showed when he was struggling with a novel.

‘How’s the writing?’

He winced, then tried to cover it by whipping off his glasses and playing with the leg, twirling the frame irritatingly to and fro in his hand. ‘All right. Sophie’s flat is rather small.’

‘But temporary, I assume?’

The spectacles twirled again. He laid them on the table, swapped spectacles for wine and tilted the glass away from him, then sideways, then the other way, watching as sugary legs streaked down the glass. ‘If things work out, I guess.’

‘Oh?’

He took a quick sip, followed it with a sizeable gulp, then another. ‘The thing is, Kate, I’m not altogether sure about this.’

‘The wine? We can ask for something different.’ She was being naughty, but couldn’t resist teasing.

‘Not the wine. You know I’m talking about Sophie.’

‘Andrew, you can afford a bigger flat, surely. You could probably afford quite a big house, if it comes to that. Especially when we sell Willow Corner.’

He looked shocked. ‘Sell Willow Corner?’

‘You’ll recall that I’m currently unemployed.’ No need to tell him about the offer of contract work, not yet. ‘The mortgage payments are high and I can’t expect you to go on paying them. And you’ll need capital yourself for somewhere bigger.’